The shared past Gosho was hinting at
by Lured by the Song of Sirens
Summary: The past brings to question if characters are perhaps not so black and white as they appeared. Then again, how can they not be in a past marked by blood? New chapter, but probably still back on Hiatus. Chapter 32A of 32 (plus epilogue)
1. Kyoto Arc (Part 1)

A Shared Past the Color of Blood, and Blood the Color of Roses

A single auburn hair and Gin knew it was her and was surprised to discover it was Sherry who had taken the first move. Why is that I wonder? What past warrants their interaction on that snowy hotel roof? What past supplies the context of their witty banter on romance cliches? What past led Gin to spill so much of her blood across the snow? And yet left her so much unharmed?

Blood the color of roses; Sherry's favorite color; the color that spells classical romance.

Funny that a red past sounds less like romance and more like well...

Rather appropriate for the past of Gin and Sherry don't you think?

* * *

Chapter 1

Gin made quick work of the training course. A series of slick and silent maneuvers let him outsmart his targets. The course was intended to force him to adapt to the unexpected, and match wits with the bloody brilliant program's opponent.

The environment of this one was controlled, the lighting dark to mimic a crescent moon, and the air thick with moisture and bitter frost. The water in the air felt as if it carried the weight of a damp towel that pressed a chill into his skin. He had worked up a cold sweat. The uncomfortable type he usually only felt with illness. He was here to sweat out the toxin to which he was trying to build up an immunity. It was a particularly nasty one that tempered with his normal reserves of stamina as well. The course strained Gin physically and mentally, which was exactly the rush he needed to distract him from the toxin.

It was a lone mission simulation, which should have given him a straightforward course of action. Though, knowing the opponent he battled was a computer program made him consider everything twice. It was obnoxiously devoid of error. That type of error people were so prone to that made them much easier prey. He was never sure if the footsteps he heard around the corner were ones he was supposed to follow, or the program trying to trick him.

He whipped around the corner regardless, gun trained on the direction of the footsteps. Down the barrel of his beretta was his real life subordinate Vodka.

Gin always remained cool and level headed, unshaken; it was as much who he was as it was his occupation. Gin's cold eyes leveled with the face of his partner who had apparently gotten himself captured and was being threatened. It was a very real scenario; this was exactly the type of situation Vodka wouldn't think through and would get himself captured in. Someone had to have entered that data into the scenario generator. A sharp rage was frighteningly evident in Gin's eyes.

Gin terminated the simulation, but not before he was faced with the image of his subordinate facing a quick and tasteless execution.

The training course zone blinked back to its maze of white walls and flood of stage lights. The course of walls then sunk into the floor, leaving only Gin standing in an expansive empty white space. The ceiling of it was three floors up. He looked to an observing window at the height of the second floor. Gin wouldn't have been able to make out a face from that distance, even with his impeccable sight, but he could tell who it was. Her slim sexy legs were crossed and she had a hand tucked up under her chin, making her posture look villainously amused. _If she wasn't that person's favorite she wouldn't still be alive with all her games_.

He caught a glance at the figure of another older women in the shadow of the observing room. _Brandy?_

Gin fired a couple blanks at the ground as if he were standing over a dying person's body and walked toward the exit.

The training simulation room opened up into a foyer. It was usually rather barren, and they had done little to disguise the fact that it was in a warehouse. The walls were dull metal sheets, and unlike the insulated training room that could control every aspect of the atmosphere from air pressure to moisture content, the warehouse trapped whatever weather the Kanto region was experiencing and amplified it.

He had noticed gray clouds pressing down on the city earlier that day, and now it seemed the warehouse had pulled off its usual miraculous feat of magnifying its surrounds. The room gave the feeling of walking through smog while being smothered in the stale warmth that the cloud cover refused to release. Though he couldn't fault the warehouse entirely for the clammy heat likely produced by the mass of people crammed into it.

The Organization rarely had very many of its members assembled in one place, so unless Gin was on a mission that required collaboration he was unlikely to see more than two other members at a time. This made the crowd of just seven black clothed persons in the foyer of one of their training facilities feel as if it may as well have been a thousand.

There was an eighth person in the foyer, but she was not in black at all. Instead, she was adorned with a white coat and remarkably foreign red-brown hair. With a pencil tucked behind her ear, pulling back some of her short hair from her Japanese features she was a startling puzzle to Gin.

Her shoulders and waist looked almost too small to be an adult 's. She was so slender and frail, so easily breakable. Indeed she seemed like a feather from a dove placed in a room of old crows. All notions of her fragile state were shaken from him as he heard her speak.

"I cannot disclose the nature of this trial until you are all debriefed at its conclusion." She addressed the entire group, though it sounded as if she was responding to a particular complaint.

"Tch, I didn't sign up for any of this. I'm leaving." A man with a strong jaw and wide face pushed past the others. This would have been quite a task for anyone not of his stature in present company.

"The test group needed to be randomly selected from the syndicate's members, otherwise it would not be an accurate portrayal of the group as a whole." She wasn't backing down.

Gin's gaze was drawn back to the bulk of a man with the sound of his shaking of the bolted steel door in its hinges. He banged the side of his fist into the metal door a couple more times and shouted for the presumed people on the other side to unlock it.

No answer.

He turned back to the woman in the white coat. "Open the damn door."

"I'm not in control of the door. I assume you will be released upon completion of the baseline tests."

"You tell them to release us."

"I can't do that yet." She had folded her arms around the clipboard she was holding, and her eyes didn't stray down to it or to the floor, nor any level below that of the eyes of the man she addressed.

With less than two strides he was towering over her, grabbing at the collar of her lab coat. He hadn't gotten to verbally threatening her before he jerked back in surprise.

There was now a bullet hole clean through the young scientist's collar where the man had been pulling it out away from her skin. The brutish man turned his attention to Gin who was tucking his beretta back into concealment.

"You arrogant little prick."

Gin's cold eyes were the only retort he offered. His assailant came at him with a hammering fist. What ensued could not be called a real fight. All in one fluid and minimalistic movement, Gin redirected the punch while dodging, and threw the other guy off balance before delivering a sharp strike to the back of his neck. The other guy fell to the ground, easily swatted down as though he were merely a small pest.

"I suppose this is the bit where I'm expected to thank you." The young scientist addressed the victorious Gin. "And you graciously offer to fix the hole you've put in both my coat and my test group."

Gin smiled internally at her reaction, intrigued. She was as bold and poised with him as she had been with that brute, and it made him want to give her a reason to keep speaking.

"You're naive. Life doesn't play out in beautiful neat little scenes."

"And still you play the aloof hero: meeting the girl as he saves her from harm."

Gin scoffed. "What foolish romantic notions."

"Say what you will," she dismissed. "I'm simply pointing out the obvious parallels you've created."

"Gin." His superior, Brandy called from the landing of the stairwell behind him. "The observing room, now."

"Well then," he gave a tilt of his head in a mock bow to the young scientist before proceeding up the stairs after the women who had interrupted their conversation.

Gin shut the door behind him coming in. Brandy hadn't bothered to sit down as per usual and had her resting impatient face. Vermouth had already left it seemed, which was smart of her as Gin hadn't forgotten about her little joke and wasn't entirely sure he would be content leaving his response as only firing blanks at the floor.

Brandy had been present for that entire exchange but likely wouldn't mention it now. Although she was his superior she was not the type to scold him for his and Vermouth's bout, instead, she predictably cut right to the grit of his next assignment.

"It will be Kyoto next. There's a professor there that the syndicate has been keeping tabs on, and on occasion purchased research from. He's gone quiet the past few days and has been acting suspiciously as far as the syndicate is concerned. We are to look into it, with the high likelihood of termination. We leave immediately."

"Understood," Gin said.

She got to the doorknob and paused, "Also, we'll need that scientist girl to collect his research. We believe what he's hiding is a potential breakthrough, maybe even the one we've been looking for."

"Breakthrough?"

"Never mind, the train leaves in an hour."


	2. Kyo Arc (2)

Chapter 2

"Bodyguards? Is that a joke?" The young scientist looked up from her clipboard to address the pair of trench coats. "I know the syndicate has a variety of divisions, but you're not really trying to get me to buy you two work security. Though I suppose it fits that protector role in more classic romance that you're so keen on replicating, Gin."

Gin was uncomfortable with the fact that she knew his code name and he did not know hers. He let it slip unwittingly into his expression.

"I suppose I'll be handing this off then," she said capping the pen and handing it to one of the men in white lab coats that had arrived when Gin and Brandy had been in the observing room. "If the syndicate thinks Dr. Kurage's research will help the development of Silver Bullet I'd be the right person to go to, as head of the project."

Gin looked to his superior in surprise, half skeptically; she looked so young, too young to be at the head of anything. Reading his unspoken question Brandy said:

"She was a child prodigy, and was working within the ranks as a scientist by thirteen."

"Huh," Gin regarded the young scientist in a new light for a moment. "We're wasting time." He interjected starting toward the warehouse door.

...

The mountains stood as a steady backdrop to the blur of fields closer to the tracks. Gin's own vague reflection on the window came to focus before the young scientist's behind him. He turned to face Brandy across from him in the booth, her face much more lined with age than the girl to her right. The skin of her hands was also thinner and clung to the veins strung on the back of her palm almost like an instrument. She was pulling out a couple of folders from her case.

"Here we are." She handed Gin one of them, and he scanned the contents for the young scientist's name, or code name, or anything to give him back an edge. Nothing, not one document on her or her project Silver Bullet.

Those weren't the only papers the folder seemed to lack. He had extensive records of this Dr. Kurage's movements, but nothing on what his research was actually on.

Each page within the folder looked like it had been photocopied. There were logs of hours spent at the university lab, bank statements, phone records, several other records the public wasn't supposed to have access to, each highlighted and annotated linking connections and holes. More money than usual had been withdrawn in the past few days, hours at the lab were irregular, and he was in constant contact with a couple of numbers that he hadn't ever called before a week ago.

There were also extensive records on the local underground regarding any recent large purchases. Hitmen, bodyguard services, escorts, drug purchases, large quantities of chemicals, acids, explosives, exotic animal markets, thieves for hire, hackers for hire, grifters for hire. The list went on.

He glanced over at the girl, who was thumbing through her own set of documents. "He's the only scientist in Japan who's been able to keep them stable and alive?" She asked Brandy.

"The only scientist in the world who has been able to keep them this long," Brandy said.

"Impressive," the girl mused. "And they really are able to-"

"-Yes," Brandy cut her off and looked up at Gin who was staring at the two converse. The young scientist looked up at Brandy and then at Gin whom she was staring at.

"Ah, what level of clearance is Gin at within the "security division" exactly?" the girl asked.

"A rung too low I'm afraid," Brandy said.

"And what of our young scientist friend?" Gin jabbed. "Codename-?"

"I assure you Gin you will not need to know, and we'll leave it at that." Brandy straightened out her papers and closed her folder preparing to stand. "Please excuse us for a moment, Miss." Brandy started toward the dining car, and Gin followed suit.

Once they were between cars she stopped to address him. "There are only two things you need concern yourself with on this mission Gin: determining whether Dr. Kurage has or intends to betray the organization, and ensuring that the young scientist back there remains unhindered in her mission to retrieve Kurage's research in tact. Everything else is above your pay grade. Understood?"

"Understood."

The train had been slowing down and had now come to a complete halt at one of the stops along their route. A small group of passengers walked between Brandy and Gin. A woman in her early twenties in a pair of tight short-shorts and a baggy jacket that nearly covered up the fact that she was indeed wearing shorts, and two businessmen in work suits made their way to the other car. They waited awkwardly on either side of the small room between cars for the group to pass. Gin started to walk back to the car they'd come from when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"As for our young scientist friend, as you call her, she needn't know anything about the potential of Dr. Kurage's demise."

"Is that all?"

"Yes for now, and don't make there a later Gin." Brandy squeezed the bridge of her nose between her ring finger and thumb.

"After you," Gin opened the door to the car with their seats. Their booth had been toward the middle of the passenger car and he could see the reddish brown back of the young scientist's head unmoved from where they had left her. Across from her though was the women who had passed by them earlier in a coat twice her size and form fitting shorts.

His sight was drawn to the back of the car with a flash of metal. At the other end of the passenger car, the two businessmen hadn't taken their seats despite the fact that the train had started back up again. They were mostly turned away from him, but one of them looked back over his shoulder and then jerked his head forward suddenly.

"Something's going on," Brandy whispered back to Gin. "You check on our young scientist friend and her new admirer. I'll take care of the two suits." With that, Brandy launched into pursuit like a bird of prey taking flight, and the two suits started to make a run for it.

Gin drew and cocked his gun holding it just inside his coat while running up to the booth. He slowed at the last few paces seeing the barrel of a gun poking out the twenty something's massive coat. He made it past the back of the seat and saw that the scientist girl had her own weapon trained on the girl across from her, hiding behind her folder. That explained why the girl in her early twenties hadn't moved her aim up at Gin when she noticed him coming.

"Don't move," the girl said under her breath sporadically moving her aim from Gin to the girl in the lab coat now that they were both an equal threat.

"Relax," Gin said revealing empty hands. "Just calm down," he took a seat beside her casually wrapping an arm around her back. Before she could protest Gin had slid a blade from his sleeve which had quickly been turned on her throat.

"Now, lower the gun," Gin continued. "I don't think I have to tell you you're outgunned in this matter. I'm sure you can feel the steel on your neck, and of course, there is that lovely woman across from you which can't have escaped your attention. But what might have escaped your attention, and what also might be overkill is the second gun pointed at your side from within my jacket. Now I don't really need any of this as I could snap your neck quite easily from this position. So darling, what can I do for you?"

"You're the crows, right? The organization all in black?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Gin continued easily. "Regardless I myself am very interested in what you want with these crows."

"He said they were coming for him, said they would think he'd outlived his usefulness." The girl stumbled over her words. "Look I know when a job gets to be more than I was paid for, and I don't owe this guy any loyalty so his cash isn't worth this much to me-"

"Get to the point." Gin tapped the end of his gun on her shoulder.

"I don't know, he sounded like some paranoid delusional, and I felt bad for taking his money, but my partners were all for it so I-"

"The point, darling. Understand?" Gin moved the knife along the skin of her neck, not cutting into it but gliding at an angle as if he were shaving.

"Right, he was going on about how they're all dead, and he's dead cause they're dead and- none of what he was saying made any sense. He just wanted us to intimidate the organization in black into leaving him alone see, that's all I was hired for and-"

"Any of this mean anything to you?" Gin asked the lady scientist who looked deep in thought.

"Yes, actually." She said looking up from her position where she had taken up grabbing her chin and staring off. "It's all very surprising. I'm interested to see the circumstances of course. Did he say anything else?"

"Just that they were all dead." She said as if she were a shell of herself. The imagery of her small frame in the large coat only perpetuated the idea, almost as if she were a turtle head retreating into its hard shell. "Creepy right?"

"Hand over the gun." Gin said unmoved emotionally by the entire ensemble.

She slipped it out of her jacket and to Gin who slid it into his own trench coat as if it already had a designated place within. He patted her discretely down and found no other weapons.

"Go lock yourself in the bathroom where you will remain until the next stop, where you will leave the train and never look back understood." Gin explained.

She nodded and Gin released his hold of weapons trained on her. The scientist girl, however, kept her gun on the women until she saw her close the bathroom door.

"Do you even know how to use that?" Gin asked skeptically.

"Wanna find out? I'll shoot you in the coat collar. We can have a matching set."

"So what is 'they're all dead' about?" Gin asked.

"I don't know, Gin. Did your clearance level randomly rank up in the past few minutes without me noticing?" She said, blatantly lauding the fact that she knew his code name and he was not allowed to know hers.

"Well if whatever they are, are indeed all dead hasn't this trip been a waste?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not." She continued easily. "Regardless I myself am very interested in what Dr. Kurage's research has to tell us."


	3. Kyo Arc (3)

Chapter 3

Brandy chased the two suits through car after car, each getting less and less crowded by passengers. She'd lost a bit of distance in the second car where they'd toppled a snack vendor's cart across the aisle. She had to jump over the back of a seat in order to get around the knot of people helping the snack vendor.

By the fourth car, she'd lost sight of them. She stopped in the small room between the fourth and fifth car drawing her gun. Leading with her gun she entered the next car, expecting to be shot at when she passed through the doorway.

She made it through without any sight of them as she scanned the car with her arms out extended, ready to fire.

A blade sliced down across the back of her right hand, and she dropped her gun. Her attacker kicked it away, and it skid into the room between the cars. At the same time, he swung out with the blade, a stroke that would have sliced into her shoulder and across her collarbone.

Brandy was already out of reach. She rolled over her shoulder back into the small room grabbing the gun and landing solidly on her feet in a crouched position. Pivoting while still crouched she shot with her left hand under her right shoulder.

Her aim was off, sparking at the metal doorway around where the two men were entering. They both made a movement that was half duck half flinch at the shots.

She tucked the gun back away in frustration and pulled out a knife of her own from her trench coat.

She sprang at them, taking off from the ground like a runner at the beginning of a race. One of them blocked her advancing knife arm, swinging his own blade down at her chest. Brandy grabbed his advancing arm, twisting it until she'd extended his elbow to its breaking point. She'd swung into him doing so, almost as if she were twirling in a dance. Only in this deadly dance, his arm was now extended over her shoulder, where her back was turned to him. She pulled down on his arm, bending his elbow the wrong way and breaking the bone.

Brandy then spun back out and grabbed his shirt just below the collar forcing him down and kneed him in the ribs. She turned him around to face his partner, twisting his broken arm behind his back and holding her blade against his throat with her gashed right hand.

"Who are you?" She demanded, though the look of horror on the partner's face said he'd like to know much the same of her.

"Hired strong arms, Geez lady."

"Who hired you?"

"Some crazy professor, I don't know." His eyes were wide, focused on her blood soaked hand that seemed to have little trouble holding a knife to his partner's throat.

Brandy twisted his partner's broken arm further into its unnatural position. "Ahhhh."

"Your partner doesn't seem to like "I don't knows" very much."

"He's the quack professor at Kyoto universit-" the man in her hold gasped out in more pain without finishing his sentence.

"I asked your partner." Brandy cut in. "I need someone with a clear head to answer me."

"Dr. Kurage, okay?"

"I thought as much," Brandy said tucking her knife into an empty sheath in her left sleeve while still holding the suit's arm in a tight lock behind his back. She slipped a zip tie from the same sleeve and tossed it at the other man. "Lock yourself to the bar there, and your friend here too with his good arm." She released her grip on the partner and pushed his shoulder, shoving him toward the other one. After each suit had a hand locked to the bar Brandy walked over and zip tied their other hands to the bar.

"You should probably know the good professor knew you were outclassed when he hired you and sent you on a suicide mission." She tightened the last tie securing the wrist of the broken arm. He winced. "Serves you right though, thinking you could take advantage of the crazy bloke. Just remember, paranoids aren't always delusional."

She gave a mock salute as she backed away. She ran off down the train in the opposite direction than she had come, and ducked into the bathroom to make a private call.

...

They were only five minutes out from Kyoto and Gin hadn't heard anything from Brandy. She'd never come back from when she ran off down the train after the two businessmen. Following the incident with the girl the train ride had been silent; the young scientist opted to study the contents of her folder leaving Gin to do the same.

He had, at one point, tried utilizing the reflection on the train's window glass to read her files. As if she sensed someone reading over her shoulder she looked at Gin almost immediately and caught him in the act. She then propped the folder up so the reflection didn't catch it.

Gin didn't feel like he had gained any more useful information by breaking each document down and closely examining it than he had skimming it. Though he had been rather entertained by the odd variety of exotic animals people were smuggling in and out of Japan. He couldn't see any real reason the document had even been listed among the logs of notable illegal activity. Unless the professor planned to smuggle himself out with the ever popular Japanese snow monkeys, or rare type of jellyfish native to only Mediterranean and Japanese waters. Or if he just wanted a baby panda bear for companionship.

These options were so laughably impractical he was left with only the conclusion that the information scout was being overly thorough. That was the point Gin was at with the information: thinking himself in pointless circles when his phone rang.

He recognized the number as one Brandy said he should pick up if he was ever called on.

"Gin, this is that person. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you."

"Good. Brandy's status has been compromised for this mission, however, it is very important that it go successfully. I'm led to believe you have handled this mission discreetly thus far, correct?"

"Yes, this is correct."

"Gin, I'm officially promoting you and raising your clearance level so you are able to complete this mission on your own. This mission will serve as a probationary period in order to see if you are suited for the position. However, if you fail this mission and do not maintain your new position you will be executed as a precaution as you will know too much secret information regarding our organization. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"From now on you take your orders directly from myself, or act on your own with my approval. Your orders for this mission remain much the same as they were previously: collect Dr. Kurage's research, and take him out for his actions taken against the organization. As for the lovely scientist you boarded the train with, her name is Shiho Miyano, code name Sherry."

Gin found himself smiling and also staring in the direction of the young scientist. She gave him an odd look as if to say "what?" He shook his head and mouthed "nothing" in a shrug.

"Her late parents were also scientists, and she took on their project Silver Bullet upon their death. Silver bullets as you may know from lure are a weapon used to kill the unkillable, and we take its meaning to say the only thing that can take out the organization. In other words, that project's completion is crucial to our goal, and without the project, there would be no need for the organization to exist to fund its research. A successful completion of the project is a silver bullet to the organization."

"Arrived in Kyoto, please be sure to collect all your personal items before departing." the overhead announcer said.

"It appears we will have to continue another time Gin." The voice said on the other line. "Sherry should be able to fill in the most important details. Until next time, and hopefully in numerous times to follow."

Gin closed the phone, "Let's go."

"Where's Brandy?" She asked looking up from her folder and glancing around.

"I assume she got off at another stop earlier on." Gin said, hoping it was true. He moved to grab Brandy's case from where she left it at the foot of her seat. The young scientist reached out to try and grab it from him, clasping her hand over Gin's.

"What do you think you're doing? I can't trust you with that, it's Brandy's." She turned as if it walk off with it, but the case was still in Gin's grasp beneath her own and her arm remained cemented to where Gin stood.

"I don't see Brandy around do you?"

"It's just the two of us then," she said with a trace of a smile in her voice, though she faced away from Gin and was still tugging on the bag as if she intended to pull along a stubborn cat on a harness.

"Do not mistake tension for sexual tension, Sherry."

She turned as his lips released her code name. It was as if he had abruptly pulled tight on a leash she hadn't even known he'd had on her.

"We're going to miss our stop at this rate." He said as if to drag her along, but she had already let go of his hand on the bag. If he had been told her code name the tables had turned and she had no right to hold him from the bag.


	4. Kyo Arc (4)

Chapter 4

"Hi, I'm here to see Professor Kurage." Sherry leaned up against the counter, resting her elbows on it and shifting her weight to one hip. Gin realized that it was the first time she had seemed her age, still just barely growing out of her teenage years. Her posture up until then had always been straight and professional, and her actions distant from that of a teenager.

"His office is in 118L, down the hall on your right." The lady at the staff office desk barely looked up from her computer screen.

"Thank you," Sherry pushed off from the counter and walked over back by where Gin was waiting in a dark corner of the office.

"That easy?" Gin said peeking out from under his hat. "Just walk up with no student ID and get pointed in the right direction."

"You can't tell me I don't look like a student of the science professor. Could it be you're not used to being mistaken for anyone but who you are, with your heavy trench coat and shady looming presence I can't imagine why. Besides we arrived in Kyoto in time to make his office hours," she shrugged. "People often see what they expect to see."

"I suppose you think you'll just waltz right into his office where he'll be casually examining data tables and you'll strike up a friendly conversation." Gin mocked as they started toward the hallway.

"Well, I was going to walk there. It's markedly less conspicuous." Sherry said responding in kind. "He's expecting someone who looks like you. Black clothes, shady demeanor, angry about his failure to keep his testing subjects alive. By the time he knows who I'm with he'll also know all I want is for him to share his research and findings."

"Or he could not be there." Gin pointed out. "Because smart people don't hang around where they're expected to be when they know a dangerous crime syndicate is looking for them."

"His obvious trail of suspicious actions thus far leave no such indication of intelligence," Sherry said.

Gin was reasonably certain it was a joke, but she hadn't delivered it as a joke and so he was simply left wondering about it as they passed by rooms 114 A through G.

"I don't expect him to have just left valuable research behind in his office for us to find ransacking the place either." Gin said.

"It would be stupid not to check."

"Suit yourself." Gin said as they rounded the corner. They were instantly struck by a wave of heat followed by the sound of alarms.

Gin started to run for the flames bursting out of the room at the end of the hall. Sherry ran after him jumping onto him and taking hold of his shoulders, dragging her weight down as much as she could. She wrapped her arms tightly around him in an aggressive hug from behind.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm reasonably certain your trench coat isn't fireproof!"

"He's burning the research." Gin tried shrugging her off of him while also trying not to hurt her, but was finding one hard without the other.

"Or that's what he wants you to think so you'll run into an explosion! Fires that get that big without setting off alarms until now got big fast, and they don't do that without some sort of accelerant." She strained against him, yanking on him to turn back. "Plus, if he was burning research that would be the first thing he doused, so you can bet those papers are long gone."

"Dammit," Gin stopped trudging down the hall. The fire blazed before them, the orange light bathing their skin. Gin turned back toward Sherry, the burning light casting dramatic shadows across his features. She was now using his body more as a shield, than pulling against him, her hands knotted in the fabric of his trench coat.

"We need to go!" Sherry shouted over the cry of alarms, and the surprisingly loud roar of the fire at the end of the hall. "This is too dangerous!" The smoke was starting to thicken around them, stinging their eyes; Sherry squeezed hers tightly shut as they had started to water.

Gin grabbed her wrist and began running away from the fire, they veered off down a hall and slipped out of an emergency exit. The alarms were already wailing so using it didn't bring any unnecessary attention to themselves.

A growing crowd of university students poured out into the courtyard creating a steady murmur of gossip as to the location and cause of the fire. Gin and Sherry slipped easily into the ocean of people.

"Unless that was a suicide, he's probably out here somewhere," Sherry said attempting to follow Gin who was cutting his way through the middle of the crowd in a straight line. He still had a hold of her wrist, so the experience was much like water skiing where she had never managed to get up on the skis and in reality was just being pulled through the water as she tried to hold on to the cable.

"Assuming he is acting according to a plan, he'll want to get away as soon as possible, probably out the other direction than the fire would force us to go." Gin had finally made it out of the mass of students and passed under a sky bridge connecting two of the university buildings. "He's been taking the train to work, and I don't recall anything about a car registered to him, so he's either going to get on public transportation, or call a taxi. That's only short term of course."

Gin stopped a second where the passage under the overpass let out to look in both directions. To the left, they saw where campus met the main road, and Gin resumed tugging Sherry along as he made his way down the wide paver-stone paths that ran between campus buildings, and up the gradually cascading levels of stairs.

"Gin, wait." Sherry stopped at the base of the third level of stairs, yanking back her arm. He released her wrist immediately upon discovering he was still clutching it. "What if they aren't dead and he only said they were so we would look for him assuming he didn't have them to lug around?"

"I have been wondering about that group of amateurs he sent after us; if their purpose was to relay the message 'they are all dead' or something else." Gin looked down at Sherry standing a few steps below him in contemplation. "If we were assuming he had to take them with him we'd rule out public transportation and wouldn't waste our time searching there." Gin began to continue up the steps, even more sure now that he needed to get to the road where a taxi could be waiting for Dr. Kurage.

"That's not what I meant," she chased after him. "They're too delicate to run with. No self-respecting scientist would plan out an escape where he'd have to make a run for it with them in tow."

"Not every scientist holds lab rats with the same high regard as you." Gin slowed his pace to a speed walk but didn't stop.

"Lab rats? No, not the rats; he could easily replace the rats. The jellyfish. If he was running with them, or even rolling them in a case while running they'd be sloshed around too much and end up dead, which would-"

Gin stopped and Sherry nearly ran into him. "Jellyfish."

"Yes, jellyfish. Scientists don't choose the animals with amazing capabilities we just study them."

"That aside," Gin took a deep breath, "If they were such a hassle he would have left them behind to make his escape, or maybe he was talking about them when he said they're all dead. Either way, we're losing our window of opportunity to catch him while he's still here."

"You're right. We are losing our window. He'll probably use a truck to transport them straight from the lab, and make it out in the chaos the fire caused." Sherry started to run back toward the center of campus.

Gin looked back at her, already making decent progress down a flight of steps twenty feet away, then looked up toward the constant flow of cars on the street ahead of him. Either of them could have been right, but she had still run off of her own accord against the will of her senior officer.

She was too damn important for her own good. The fact that it was basically even odds as to where the Professor went meant that she could just as easily run into him. She had a gun and did seem to be able to handle herself, but she was running after the guy who just set his own office ablaze.

Gin darted after her, a steady stream of curse words flowing through his mind. If this mission for a possible breakthrough on the project Silver Bullet was this important, he didn't even want to consider the repercussions of getting its head scientist killed.

He caught up to her as they both reached the courtyard, still buzzing with students. Several fire trucks had been parked along the red curb of a distant parking lot by the office building at the far left end of the courtyard. A black smudge of smoke was streaked across the sky stemming from the building.

"The loading dock will probably be on the other side of that building." Sherry pointed to one of the buildings directly across from them; the characters for science department were printed across the red brick. Sherry then proceeded to weave her way through the crowd, quickly but gracefully. Gin attempted to follow her but found it much like attempting to follow the path of a leaf floating atop the ever-changing currents. He eventually gave up on her path and forced his way to the other side.

They then ducked through an alley between buildings, soon finding themselves on the other side. A few extra emergency vehicles were parked along the lot back there, and they were all teaming with firefighters and paramedics.

Gin grabbed the brim of his hat reflexively further serving to cover his face.

Sure enough, there was also a nondescript grey van backed up to the loading dock of the red bricked building. The windows were tinted black and it was idling. One of the trunk's doors was swung open still, but it was the side closer to them so it blocked the view inside.

There was a sudden commotion among the emergency personnel as they all went from somewhat stationary to rushing into their vehicles. Car doors slammed all around them, but they did not miss the fact that the door on the van's trunk was one of them. Like the emergency vehicles, it immediately took off.

Gin knew there were too many men in uniform around to apprehend the van and so did not pull out a gun and attempt to shoot its tires out. He was surprised however to see Sherry slapping his shoulder for attention as she ran past him toward the van.

"Putting a tracker on," she said rapidly as she took off. She had not said it so loud he thought anyone but him would hear it though.

He was further surprised when instead of slapping the underside of the bumper with a tracker she instead leapt onto the tailgate and swung a thin blade into the seam between the van's doors at the same level as the handle and popped the door open before jumping inside.

He was then treated to the image of her slamming the door closed in front of her as the van speed out of the lot, and, though Gin chased after it to the end of the lot, out of sight.


	5. Kyo Arc (5)

Chapter 5

As soon as Sherry had closed the van door her head was slammed into its hard metal surface. She'd been perched on the very end of the trunk in order lean out and close the door behind her, which had not made for the most balanced of positions. She lost what little balance she'd had with the collision of her head against the door and was swung easily into the corner as the van hit a hard left leaving the parking lot.

She felt the vibration of metal resound through her skull, so much that even her vision had gone shaky. The hand that had forced her forehead into the door found the back of her head again, pulling it up by the roots of her hair. Sherry pulled herself onto her weak elbows from the slumped position she'd been slung into.

"I'll take that," a gruff voice said pulling her head to one side and reaching for her hand with the other. Sherry hadn't even noticed the thin cut along the base of her fingers until he'd pulled the slippery blade from her grasp. She'd still been holding the knife when she was flung onto the van's floor, and the blade had slid down when she'd flattened her hands to brace her fall.

She reached out with her cut hand as if she had realized in slow motion that he was disarming her. Her head was still held back though, and she wouldn't have the length she needed to reach it. She pulled back her wounded hand, clutching it against her chest.

"Alrighty," the man tossed the knife to the other side of the van. There were no seats apart from the driver's and a single passenger in the front so it skid easily across the grooved plastic floor to just under the driver's seat. "Why don't you sit on up." He had released her hair and was struggling to pull her up from under her arms.

Two slightly translucent versions of him were swinging back and forth in Sherry's eyes as she pulled her head upright; they were like two pendulums that we're just off from cross-crossing perfectly and so one looked like it was following the other.

"She hardly looks like a crow," a voice that sounded slightly less like scraping rocks and more like a dentist's said from the front seat.

"A crow?" She forged ignorance, "Is that some sort of slang for old lady?"

"What?"

"Like crow's feet." She said very timidly, almost losing the last consonant as she appeared to have lost the will to speak up halfway through.

"No."

"Oh," her face flushed and she tucked her head in close to her neck raising her shoulders. She looked down at the floor close to her knees. The new angle of her face made it easier for blood from the wound on her forehead to trickle down to her cheekbone. She curled her wounded hand in even closer to herself, almost tucking it into the collar of her lab coat.

"Why don't you explain what you were doing with that knife." He said glowering down at her shrunken figure.

She peeked up at him, checking how closing he was watching her, but immediately squeezed her eyes shut and tucked her head back down. "It's not mine," she said in a mumbling nervous mess, "it was sticking out of the door, I- when I- I just-" her face was burning a fierce red and she was trembling slightly.

"Give it a rest. Do you really think that girl is capable of unlatching a lock on a moving vehicle?" The gentlemen in the driver's seat interjected.

"Are you really going to ignore the fact that she jumped into this car herself?"

"I'm hardly saying that."

"I suppose you'd believe her if she told you she just wanted to inform us that there was a hilt poking out of the car and she wanted to return it to us."

"Umm, it's just-" Sherry broke in, though still rather timidly, "weren't you two- umm- stealing?" she squeezed her eyes even more firmly shut after saying the word stealing as if she expected to be smacked for suggesting it.

"Stealing? Look, little girl, I'm a-" the man in the driver's seat looked as if he were about to say a professor at the university, but thought better of it considering his position and involvement in the battering of a young woman. "Look you shouldn't chase after criminals, that's the job of the police."

She nodded fervently, looking one tear short of a breakdown.

"And just like that she's gone from threat to completely innocent," the man leaning over her scoffed. "I'm not willing to believe that."

He was very close to her now, using proximity as an intimidation tactic. Sherry had finally reached the pendant hanging from her neck, as if in a habit of comfort seeking she clutched her wounded hand around it, squeezing until its small glass shell broke.

"Honestly, are you really so afraid of a little girl?" The driver kept a watchful eye on them through the rear view mirror. "Look at her. Are those tear stained eyes the ones of a cold-hearted assassin?"

Sherry's head whipped toward the direction of the driver upon hearing the word assassin, her eyes wide with fear and shock. She looked quickly from one man to the other. Her breath quickened as if in fear, and she loosened her grip slightly on the fine dust and stinging shards her necklace had become in her hand. Her breath let them disperse into the air, joining the dust floating freely around the van.

"I am looking at her," ironically he looked back at the driver for a second to say this, but soon turned back to Sherry's face, which she had gone back to hiding in the collar of her lab coat, only inches from his. "I was also looking at her as she calmly broke into your van as it was speeding away. You hired me to protect you from threats, are you now asking me to ignore them?"

"I didn't hire you to scare the shit out of little girls. You've taken away the knife, what threat can she really be from where she's cowering on the floor? Besides, like you said, I hired you and now I'm telling you to back down."

The man took a second to glare at the back of the driver's seat before backing away and sitting down against the wall across from Sherry.

...

Gin riffled through Brandy's bag, looking for a receiver to the tracker Sherry had mentioned. There wasn't anything.

_What was she thinking?! Was she even thinking?_

That car took off too fast after closing the door of the trunk to have only one passenger, and she started with her back to them. Those were terrible odds, especially considering she couldn't possibly be half as proficient as he was in combat. Sure she could properly maneuver a few weapons but she was no mercenary; she was a scientist.

_She better of not just gotten herself killed._

Gin started running to find the nearest bus stop, there had to be a few around the university. Gin reasoned through their next course of action while running: They'd want the fastest way out of the country, which had to be air travel, but there wasn't an airport in Kyoto. The one in Osaka was the closest, but no longer had anything but domestic flights. The next closest was Kansai International. They'll probably continue there in the van, which meant Gin should be able to beat them there on the express train.

If they were traveling by car though they'd have every opportunity to get rid of Sherry along the way. If she was now dead they'd have to adequately dispose of a body, being sure to not leave any evidence tying them to it, which would take too much time. If they foresaw that she probably wasn't dead. The smartest thing for them to do would be to drug her and either leave her in the van asleep, or leave her drugged in a public restroom somewhere along the way, somewhere out of the way so she wouldn't be found, or she wouldn't wake up and go to the cops before they got away.

There were too many possibilities of where to look for Sherry to justify trying to find her first. He'd have to just hope they were smart and didn't plan to put her anywhere before the last possible second to reduce the amount of time she could be discovered before they could get away.

Gin caught a departing bus just in time, heading for the train station.

...

It had been nearly half an hour and the van had fallen silent for most of the drive. There were no windows other than the windshield, and the two side windows in the cab, so the only light in the van poured in from the front, in beams crowded with dust.

The dust from her pendant had long since dispersed into an amount thinned out enough that it would no longer be harmful to breathe in, and Sherry, siding with caution, only just moved her face from her coat collar that she'd been breathing through.

She'd blown the concentrated amount directly into the man's face when he was leaning in to intimidate her, and since the sleeping drug was airborne he should have breathed it in. It would have taken full effect fifteen minutes ago, but again she aired on the side of caution.

Sherry moved silently up from her seated position and advanced toward the front of the van. Just before the cab was a blocky shape covered in a tarp. She peeked under the covering just a little to confirm before testing the lid on the aquarium and taking a seat.

"Say, professor," Sherry said catching him off guard. "Do you suppose it's bad luck to kill something that could have been immortal?" She sat on top of the small covered glass tank just behind the passenger seat and tapped the glass with the heel of her shoe. He turned his upper body to face her, keeping only a hand on the wheel to stabilize the car's path.

"What are you-"

"Eyes on the road professor." She pointed the gun at him, and he obliged. "Maybe it's good luck, releasing all that potential life into the air, like a perfume of eternal youth."

"You sound crazy."

"Any crazier than the professor who set out to study jellyfish that can live forever, and decided to sell his idea of bottling the fountain of youth to a dangerous shadow organization, believing that it would never work. Thinking he could string them along, getting money for information that truly had little value. Only to actually discover something. But what now? You can't very well hand some shady crime syndicate what is a potentially very dangerous discovery. I suppose you have some moral qualm with that. Or is it that you are truly foolish and intend to bid the information for a higher price?"

"It's none of that."

"Oh?"

"I didn't find the secret to life, only death."


	6. Kyo Arc (6)

Chapter 6

"How poetic," Sherry used her left hand to tap against the glass of the case in rhythm with the phrase. Each syllable ringing with the pang of glass behind it. She dropped the cover which she had bunched up at the top of the aquarium' side and ran her hand down it as if to smoothen out the tarp. "But science cares very little about the poetry of it."

"Science you say?" he took the time to ponder, flaring the dramatics of the action. "From a suspected crow to claiming ignorance. Then from playing the misguided vigilante to shielding yourself in helplessness. And on further from our hostage to the one calling the shots. Now you claim to be a woman of science, but you'll have to forgive me If I can only ask what purpose this mask serves."

"I suppose you are continuing to be poetic: avoiding death."

"Ah, suppose I am. But you did notice the poetry of the situation, now didn't you? How avoiding death in our conversation aligns with avoiding my own death. It was all very clever of you." The professor clicked his turn signal on in order to merge toward the freeway off ramp.

Sherry tapped his temple with the barrel of her gun. "We're not ready to get off the freeway just yet, there are still so many questions you're avoiding."

"If you shoot me while we're driving we'll crash. But you won't shot me, not before you have your answers, even if I drive right off that ramp I'll get there alive."

"Alive, missing a few fingers, I suppose if it's all the same to you."

"Torture? No one ever gets reliable information with torture." He continued with more of an air of amusement than nervousness. "Don't you know reverting to empty threats only reveals your true weakness?"

"Are you trying to teach me to be a better captor?" Sherry giggled, standing up and pulling the cover completely off the aquarium. The dusty light shining in from the cab danced across the water that had looked black before. "Don't confuse me with one of your students, professor."

The light illuminating the aquarium revealed half a dozen darting bell shapes within. They were all a nearly transparent electric blue, with a red-orange center. Sherry slid the lid off, and it clattered to the floor.

"For all your talk of death, these jellyfish don't look very dead," she set a foot on the top edge of the glass, tipping the tank slightly forward. "But they will be if you get off this freeway. And I assure you that was not an empty threat."

The professor turned off his turn signal with a sigh. "Are we just going to keep driving until we reach the end of Honshu then? I never did like road trips."

"All I want is your findings."

"Oh? Well then, the experiments were a failure. No outstanding discoveries were made."

"I seriously doubt that," Sherry said rummaging through a duffle of aquarium supplies. "Why would you run were that the case, knowing full well we'd think it meant you'd discovered something."

"How long do you think they'd put up with me not finding the answer they're looking for?"

"It's been six years for me, and more than two decades of my parents before me."

"And where are your parents now?"

Sherry didn't answer this, treating it as if it were one of the many rhetorical questions his speech seemed to tend toward. "I won't believe you haven't discovered something professor. Not while you planned your escape taking the jellyfish with you."

"And what if I had? Do you think I'd tell a girl who doesn't even look like a crow?"

...

The bus was nearly silent. None of the passengers spoke and other than the usual hum of the bus, only the occasional tap of a pencil against a notebook could be heard. The off rhythm tap was coming from a youth a couple seats behind Gin who had ear buds in and bounced his pencil along to music only he could hear.

Public transportation was always like this, but this time, it was different. The silence was tense. The thin fabric of custom and courtesy was pulled taught between Gin and the two police detectives who took their seat just slightly off from across from him.

Gin turned up the collar of his jacket in an effort to further obscure his face. He felt something hard and plastic graze his fingertips, a small bead-like object attached to the jacket's thick collar.

He tugged it off to more closely examine it and recognized it immediately.

It was the make of tracking device Brandy proffered. Though it couldn't have been Brandy who put it there. It was too obvious a place for one, plus he had turned up his collar since the time he'd left her and he hadn't felt it then.

_Sherry. The audacity of that woman, _behaving as if she was the lead and he was the tag along she'd simply need to find later.

He pulled the compact laptop from Brandy's bag. Earlier he had only been checking for Sherry's own receiver. It would have been foolish to assume Brandy had handed over her set of tracking chips to Sherry or had her using ones on the same system. Apparently, it wasn't as foolish as he first believed.

He clicked open the program and the map slowly rendered streets and buildings onto its grid. One dot blinked into existence and inched along on the road he knew the bus was following.

_Only one? _He knew Brandy kept at least four, and apparently none of them were still in her bag.

No other dots seemed to be appearing in Kyoto. He zoomed out, cursing every represented mile that rendered and turned up nothing. On the outskirts of town two weak dots stood stationary.

He checked a much broader area for the last one, and instead found four blinking in what at first had seemed like the same spot. Zoning in on them, however, revealed they were all in separate locations all across the city. In one of the small cities they'd passed through on the train. It was too far out and in the wrong direction to be Sherry.

He returned to the two weak spots on the outskirts of Kyoto. He was actually closer to them than he first thought. Zooming in he found they were stopped at a rest stop. One of the dots was in the parking lot and one in the convenience store. Though that could be unreliable locators. He would be cautious either way once he was there.

...

Gin had hailed a taxi from the bus stop and to his surprise the two weak dots had not moved from their place in the quarter hour it took him to get there. This should have been helpful but in fact was only worrisome.

The taxi made one of the last turns in the route, and Gin watched the rear view mirror as they rounded the corner. Sure enough, a dark blue car with lights resting dormant just inside the windshield flipped on their turn signal.

The last thing he needed right now was a tail. Let alone a police one. It couldn't be helped, he could hardly have told the taxi driver to maneuver to lose a tail.

He exited the taxi a block away from the convenience store and made the remaining distance on foot. Sure enough, the van he'd seen zipping from the university lot was parked along the small strip in front of the store.

No doubt the detectives were still on him and picking the van's lock would be impossible to do and not look suspicious.

His best bet was that the professor had left Sherry passed out in the van, so detectives or no he was going to check. It was also possible that he had ditched both van and tracking chips here, or maybe even left Sherry dead here in the van.

That last option would get very uncomfortable with the police watching.

He recalled how Sherry had commented that she wasn't surprised he was never mistaken for anyone but who he was because of how he looked and acted.

Gin wasn't exactly sure what had earned him his police tail, surely the police had better things to do than tail suspicious characters around the city. They were probably looking for someone in particular, though Gin couldn't imagine there were a great many people fitting his physical description wandering the streets of Japan. He was extremely tall for a Japanese man and had long ash blonde hair.

Gin pulled his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. "Hey, did you say you left the keys in the cab or the back?"

He left a pause as if he were listening. "What do you mean you don't remember?" Gin took care to look annoyed giving him an excuse to raise his voice to a volume his police tail would hear. "Of course you didn't mean to lock them in the van. Just- give me a second-". He pressed the phone against his jacket as if to cover the speaker. "Damn women."

The van was an old enough model that it would be easy to pick. Gin pulled out one of his more primitive lock picking tools, one he hoped the detectives would see as a makeshift one.

There weren't any windows in the back and he couldn't see anything unusual looking in through the cab, only the back doors really. Gin popped open the back as Sherry had, lifting the latch.

The door swung open to reveal a slumped figure against one wall, their dark pants clearly darker in certain spots.

All in one glance, he took in the sight of the unnaturally slumped person, the wide pools of liquid and large pieces of glass shattered across the van's dark floor. There were also small red stains speckled across the white van's walls that could only be blood.

He didn't have time to check for a pulse, his show for the cops was clearly over.

"Hey you, stop right there."

Gin ran for the convenience store's glass doors. The small bell on the entrance door rang softly, and he shut out the shouts of officers behind him.


	7. Kyo Arc (7) Climax Ch

Chapter 7

In an instant everything seemed to close off behind him. The last sound was the weak chime of the bell hanging on the door, and then, nothing. From chaos, and brightness, and shouting, to an eerie absence of it all that was almost deafening. Walking into the shop had been almost like walking through a visible wall of light and dark, cutting off the blinding sun and slamming the darkness in his face. The front windows had been papered and the only light came from three uncovered fluorescent tubes blinking as if with their last breaths. It seemed as if all the dust had been settled before he entered and his coming had caused the ghost town of a shop to heave a sigh at being disturbed.

The illusion faded as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting; the shop wasn't half as dusty as he first thought. A long trail of water was sloshed across a white tile floor. Gin reasoned that the liquid on the floor of the van was also probably water, but he hadn't been able to tell until he saw it on something lighter than the vans black matting. He followed it as it jagged a diagonal path through the aisles to the back corner of the shop. The puddles were littered with shredded plastic bags and on occasion small drips of blood. Some of them didn't seem to splatter like the others and looked unnaturally round. It wasn't clear in the dimness, and he had no time to investigate.

A small hall lead off to the restrooms and a number of employee-only doors. It was the darkest corner of the shop, and Gin did not trust all the black shapes to be merely shadows.

He quieted his steps and held his hand just above his holster. He was listening for breathing and waiting to see if a shadow shifted.

Loud as a gunshot, three bangs on the window glass broke the silence.

"This is the police." The voice was muffled behind the closed walls.

The officers had apparently mustered up the courage to pursue him. Of course, he had dead bolted that entrance, so they posed little threat.

He had been watching the shadows and nothing seemed to startle at the noise, which he took as a green light to enter the hall. He got into firing stance and swung open the bathroom door. The door hissed at him as it scraped across the concrete.

The first thing he noticed was Sherry, a bloody wound swelling on her forehead and a trail of dried blood hugging the curves of her face almost too perfectly, like a decoration she had been careful not to smudge.

He had feared the blood trail was from her, but this discovery was ultimately undercut by the second thing he noticed: she was not only alive and well but appeared to be in control of the situation. She held both a gun and the top of a plastic bag filled with water in one hand and a knife pointing to the bag in the other. Blood had run down one side of the bag, it's source likely from the palm of her hand.

The man in between them turned back to face Gin, starting to speak before Gin came into sight.

"Please, call the police she's-!" the color drained from the professor's face upon meeting Gin's cold and unsympathetic eyes. "My luck is shit."

"I see you were right about the jellyfish." Gin holstered his gun and nonchalantly leaned against the door frame. The flowing transparent shape in the bag looked almost like a living bubble with a red sphere inside.

"Turritopsis Dohrnii, not the most beautiful Jellyfish, but nature can't give all the best traits to a single variety." The thin layer of blood coating the far side of the bag made the background a light sickly red. He doubted anything would look its best in such conditions. "You may have just saved his last one."

"Last one?" Gin smirked, "I take it your previous attempts at information were unsuccessful."

Sherry ignored this and turned her attention to the professor. "Well, you can't deny who I'm with any longer now can you?"

"That much is true." Gin heard defeat in the man's voice, but something was slightly off about it. It wasn't admitting defeat to his captors, but resignation to something else entirely. "There is very little I value over my own life, I just didn't realize this was one of them."

The professor leapt toward Sherry the same way a criminal might to commit suicide by cop. Gin saw it coming and had soundlessly crept up behind the man during what he had believed would be his last words. At his first sign of action, Gin had wrapped an arm around the professor in a choke hold restricting blood flow to the brain.

The professor flailed around for a while before going limp. Gin lowered him to the ground.

"Tape." Gin was crouched over the professor, one hand on his chest, the other outstretched. Sherry grabbed a roll from a nearby aisle and cut her knife through its plastic casing as Gin continued speaking. "There are a couple officers out front. I'm sure backup won't be long now."

"What?" Sherry was tucking away her knife and nearly dropped it. "You led the police here! You _let_ them follow you?"

Gin pulled out a long section of the tape making a loud sound similar to ripping fabric. "You left a van with a body, shattered glass, and blood in the parking lot." He had not picked up the same elevated state of agitation as Sherry and was more occupied securing the professor. "They may have been mildly interested before, but it was the van with the dead guy that got them invested I'm sure."

"He's only unconscious, and I wasn't the one who led them to the van," Sherry said while Gin was ducking out into the hall and looking at the various ceiling tiles. He pulled a step stool from behind the door with _employees only_ in print and set it up just outside the bathroom.

"I'm going to create a distraction on the east side of the building and shoot out some tires. I assume you can start up a car."

Gin was following Sherry as he spoke. She had sprinted over to the beverages and was quickly checking labels for the highest alcohol content.

"What about the professor?" She asked. They had left him duct taped to the handicapped bar in the bathroom and had mere seconds before he was due to regain consciousness.

"I'll take him out when I go. Just have a car going."

She shoved a few bottles against Gin's chest. "How romantic," He feigned affection. "You shouldn't have."

"I'll be honest I was hoping for a nice park or beach. Convenience store doesn't exactly fit now does it?" She threw a couple touristy shirts at him as they made their way back to the small hall.

"They do have a curiously strong presence in the action genre however." He said, hefting the loose square of ceiling that led to the attic.

"Romance plots are usually better when paired with another genre anyways."

He stopped his ascent to respond to this. "You're not talking about the horrendous tacked on romantic interests?"

"Would you get up there already. They are going to barge through that door and then where will we be?" She said, and then sprinted to the back door.

She waited with her back to the wall next to the exit occasionally peeking out of the small wire laced window set in the door. There were two officers in the back lot watching the door.

After about a minute there were two loud crashing sounds followed by the bang of an explosion. The two officers ran toward the sound and Sherry immediately made her move out of the building.

In the attic, Gin crawled toward the east most corner. A small cool breeze blew in from a vent in the bottom corner of the attic. It was a building regulation he had been counting on. He dug out the insulation to get a clear shot out through the vents under the building's eaves.

He pressed a cheek against the floor and peered out the grated vent to the parking lot below. The angle between the attic floor and the convenience store's eaves cut off the back half of the lot from his sight. He counted six officers that had come in and out of his range. There were three patrol cars and an ambulance. The ambulance was the only vehicle he could see completely, and he only had a good shot at the patrols' front tires.

Gin used one of his lock picking tools to unscrew the metal grate on the vent. The holes in the grate weren't quite big enough to push his fingers through to pull it up, so he was grabbing at the corners trying to lift it slowly up into the attic when it slipped through the hole and down to clatter against the store's front walk.

The officers were in instant commotion, and three came up closer to look up at where the metal grate had come from.

Gin had to act fast, he threw one of the bottles of alcohol down to shatter against the ground at the entrance, followed by a balled up shirt he'd doused and lite on fire.

The shirt hit the ground and ignited the spilled alcohol. A wave of fire spread out around it.

As if in sequence with the wave the officers jumped back from the area and soon took cover behind the patrol car doors with the others.

He threw another bottle at the flame. This time, it exploded in a large ball of color. He used the confusion to mask his next three silenced shots at the patrols' tires.

With three cars flat he scrambled backward and down into the hall.

"Alright talk fast, you've made this choice once and I've a feeling you may wish to change your answer now. Will you die a traitor, or give up the research the Organization funded?" He pulled the tape from the professor's mouth.

"The truth dies with me." The professor moved the barrel of the gun up toward his head with his bond hands.

"And so it does."


	8. Kyo Arc (8)

Chapter 8

The alley that ran along the back of the convenience store was narrow and would offer little in the way of cover from police fire. Its intended purpose was probably to take the trash to the dumpster located on the side of the building where there was actually room, however the carpet of cigarette buds told a much different story of how the employees had been using the space. The other wall of the alley was a hedge that appeared to have swallowed a fence some years ago.

It was that hidden inner structure that Gin gambled on now as he left the protection of the doorway and leapt onto the hedge. He heard the satisfying clink of the chain link fence as his feet kicked into holds.

The shouts of officers were quick to drown out the chime of metal as he scaled the fence. He was unarmed as far as the police could see and so they couldn't fire at him.

The two watching the alley sprinted into action; one darted after him and attempted to climb the hedge, while the other took off the other way to get around the fence where he'd come out.

There was a van parked up against the other side of the hedge, and Gin jumped on top of it. He then fired a few warning shots at the top of the bush he knew would make the policemen think twice about peaking his head over.

Gin dropped down. He was on a stretch of pavement that ran behind the shops and was used for unloading new supplies. It wasn't long after he started sprinting along the back of the strip mall that a white car zipped into the loading strip.

A car door flung open just as the officer that had thought to go around the fence rounded the corner of the building. She had a gun out and ready.

"Stay where you are! Lower your weapon!"

Gin had his back to the officer and was holding the brim of his hat in his right hand. He shot a quick side glance at Sherry before he shot his gun, sparking the pavement at the officer's feet. She jumped back in surprise and fired off her own shots. The low pang of the bullets hitting the car door sounded as Gin ducked into the car.

The car yanked backward in a hard reverse almost before Gin had taken his feet off the pavement outside. His shoulder was slung against the dash with the momentum.

"Where's the professor?" Sherry asked backing the car around the corner and then suddenly forward along the main road. The jerk forward slammed Gin's door shut.

Gin shook his head. "Back there, I'm sure the police have found him by now."

"I thought you were going to take him with you." She hit a hard right flinging him into the door.

"Just wasn't in the cards." He said finally adjusting himself properly in the seat. "He destroyed his research. We weren't going to get anywhere with him. He wasn't worth the risk of bringing along."

"Wasn't worth the risk!" Sherry took her eyes off the road for a moment to glare in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea the kind of breakthroughs he had to have made? How much losing that will set us back?"

"Sherry," Gin was louder than normal, his voice more firm. "We were _never_ going to get what he learned from him. It was already lost."

She was scowling at the road now, jostling the car about with every move of the wheel. There was silence between them that sat uncomfortably as she slowly began to drive more normally.

It was Gin who broke it, "We need to lose the car, the police will be looking for these plates."

"You're right," she admitted. "Let's cut our losses and head back."

...

The familiar rhythm of the tracks hummed beneath them as the train whirred them out of Kansai. The sound reminded Sherry of her father and the smell of book pages.

Gin had slouched back across from her with his hat tipped over the top half of his face. He had seemed exhausted. Even more amusing, he had seemed resentful to be exhausted. Sherry had noticed him scowling a long while until the tension in his muscles loosened and he fell asleep.

They had booked a private booth for the return trip and she doubted Gin would have fallen asleep had they not been able to lock the door. Sherry was glad for the relative quiet. She pulled the plastic bag from her padded bag and up in front of her face. She'd lied to the professor of course and in fact had three remaining jellyfish. She'd been planning on keeping two regardless of how many she killed in front of him.

"What secrets do you hold?" She asked it watching the natural light run across its many hair-thin translucent tentacles. She sat observing it for a time, giving her eyes something to study while she thought of how best to find the answers this creature supposedly held. She placed it back in the aquarium bag with the others. She'd taken out the supplies it had held and put them in her coat pockets so the bags with the jellyfish would not be punctured.

It was some minutes later when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"How goes the study of things of which I cannot pronounce?" It was her older sister Akemi, in a pleasant mood as always.

"Good," she breathed out a laugh. "How are things in the fairy tale?"

"I'm hardly living a fairy tale, Shiho." That much was true. Akemi was the most normal person in her life. The _only_ normal part of her life. She was practically only in the organization by default and in name. Her parents were and she knew so she was in their grasp, albeit dormantly so.

"A rom-com then?" Sherry suggested. "It has to be something; you hit him with your car."

"That was nearly three years ago!"

"Three years and still no ring, they're going to start calling you Christmas Cake soon." Sherry teased. "Weren't you about my age when you two met?"

"Humph, I was in fact. Guess that means you should drive a little more recklessly yourself." Sherry could practically hear her sister wink.

"I have work to do."

"Even dad stopped working at the lab long enough to date mom."

"They were both scientists," Sherry argued light-heartedly. "I get the feeling they just went together."

There was a very loud sigh on the other end of the line. "Anyways, about what I called you for; I am back in town and was thinking it would be nice to meet up and have dinner. You know when your face isn't stuck observing various vials of colorful liquid." Sherry laughed at this conjuring images of what her sister must think she does. "Besides, it's been three years and you still haven't met the guy. Which is silly and irregular and I won't stand for it."

"Oh, dinner with Dai."

The overhead announcer echoed the name of a stop along the route across the train, drowning out what Akemi had said.

"Sorry, what? There's a lot of noise over here."

"Doesn't matter, how does Tuesday sound?"

"Let's see..." as Sherry was delaying there was a knock at the door. "Hold on a sec." She peeked through the peephole to see Brandy standing in the hall.

Sherry turned to look at Gin who was up and at alert from the knock.

"Who is it?"

"Brandy," Sherry said sounding slightly confused. She picked up the phone to speak to Akemi once more, "I'll have to get back to you, bye."

She opened the door to see a disheveled Brandy who slipped her way inside and found a seat. Sherry thought she probably looked confused, but Gin, on the other hand, looked downright bewildered.

"Glad to see you both well," Brandy said simply.

"And you." Gin said cautiously. The light spray of blood splatter on her pants did not escape anyone's attention, as she was sure the scabbed area on Sherry's head and her bandaged hand had not escaped hers.

The drone of the train's purr filled the silence between them. Gin and Brandy seemed to be having a silent conversation of subtle facial expressions and Sherry could not read a word of it.


	9. Tokyo BigSight Arc (part 1)

Chapter 9

Darkness had long since fallen over the sky by the time they were back in Tokyo. Sherry now found herself cursing the very silence that she had been grateful for at the beginning of their journey. It wasn't restful or comforting as it had been before, only agitating.

The confusion sitting stale in the air needed to be cleared; there were words that ought to have been exchanged and no one was speaking them. The train slowed and came to a halt at their stop. Brandy and Gin stood and she knew if she didn't speak now their answers would remain behind unsaid in that cabin.

"Where do we go from here?"

"Well, I assume you have the tools you need to pursue Kurage's research further." She motioned to the bag Sherry had not unstrapped from her shoulder in the whole time she'd spent on the train.

Sherry nodded. "I suppose I do."

"Then we'll leave you to your research Miss Sherry." Brandy opened the door and began to walk through.

"But what of you and Gin?" She said trying to catch her before she left.

"I'm afraid that's not something you'll need to know," Brandy said without turning back, giving a dismissive wave of the hand.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and realized she was blocking the doorway.

"Something about clearance level." Gin smirked, bringing back memories of a similar exchange the last time they were on a train. "I'm sure you understand. The Organization has a great many secrets and only one person who knows them all."

"That person," Sherry heard herself say.

Gin shrugged and ducked past her. "Goodnight, Sherry."

...

Over the next few days, Sherry gathered as much information about the professor's three jellyfish through tests and studies as she could. She also ordered in several groups of the same immortal jellyfish from different vendors and set up controls to catch any variation in the professor's jellyfish from the species.

She was in the middle of one such study when she received a text from Brandy containing a location and a time. Brandy was her handler for the project Silver Bullet and as such was the executive member Sherry worked under. Mostly it just meant hers was the email address where she forwarded all her lab reports. In person meetings had always been rare, and it was only recently that she actually seemed to pay attention to what Sherry was saying. Those had been the last meetings before Brandy had sent her to Kyoto. Now it was three days since they'd seen each other on the train and already she wanted to meet up outside a cafe.

Brandy usually gave a week's notice before every planned meeting, but the time she'd sent had been in less than an hour. Sherry had overestimated the time it would take to drive to the location and was ten minutes early.

Brandy was already there wearing a large white sunhat and a black knee length dress with a portrait neckline that ran along the line of her collarbones. She was sipping at an iced tea sitting at one of the outdoor tables.

Sherry almost hadn't recognized her. Brandy was typically very precise, arriving exactly on time, so she hadn't really been looking for her, but mostly she'd nearly slipped Sherry's attention because she'd never seen her without a black coat. She had assumed that it was an unofficial uniform of sorts. Though now it occurred to her that it was likely just ideal for hiding weapons. The sleek dress Brandy wore now did not offer many places to conceal much of anything.

She took a seat across from her.

Brandy wasted no time with formalities. "I was reading through your findings on a test you performed. One on the toxicity of the jellyfish venom." Brandy was looking at a few loose papers she held in a folder. "It's extremely lethal. Its lethal dose is uncommonly small and fast acting."

"Yes, I actually have a theory as to how it developed such uncommon toxicity. I believe the proficiency of its toxin may stem from already having the knowledge of how to very effectively trigger widespread apoptosis, that is cell death, in its genetic material."

"Why would it already know how to trigger cell death more effectively than any other animal?"

"The reason this species of jellyfish is nicknamed the immortal jellyfish is because they can revert back to a younger stage of life, before sexual maturity an indefinite number of times. As part of that process it would need to trigger the death of cells it no longer needed very quickly."

"So it would be a very unique toxin then, yes?

"I suppose it would be," Sherry answered cautiously.

"One the screens for common poisons would not pick up and be able to identify."

"Yes."

"Hmm," Brandy hummed pleasantly, sliding the folder across the table to Sherry. "You know they are developing so many tests these days. They can trace what type of gun and bullets you used just by evidence at the scene. Sometimes they can trace the type and location where the poison you used came from. Killing people is becoming a very dangerous game, and we are falling behind."

Sherry had been scanning the pages in the folder. Everything to do the venom's efficiency had been highlighted. The next pages were comparisons to common poisons, and their lethal doses.

"This isn't what I do." Sherry closed the folder and put it down on the table.

"You research what the Organization tells you to, and go where that research leads you."

"I won't continue this one." Sherry pushed the folder away from her, off to the side where it was no closer to Brandy than it was to her.

Brandy was watching her carefully as she took a sip of her drink, her actions were measured and precise as she placed the glass down.

"This idea of free will you have is an illusion, it always has been. I think you know that; you're a very smart girl."

"I will not develop a poison, nor any weapon the organization would have me construct. That was never the intention of my research." Sherry's words were harsh but quiet, keeping in mind the public location of the meeting.

Brandy stirred the ice around in her iced tea with the straw. It made a perfect circle around the glass, and then another.

"The Organization would have you pursue this line of research wherever it may lead until the end. Anything short of that is to disobey orders from that person. Thereby, you'd be betraying the Organization and endangering all that you hold dear."

Brandy stood up and walked around the table. "Think about your sister, she's graduated college now, has fallen in love." She slid the folder back in front of Sherry. "A year maybe two for this and you'll be back to your research. Maybe you'll even discover something you can use to complete Silver Bullet."

Sherry glared up at the woman standing behind her. The late afternoon sun badly backlit her, making her face hard to see. "You can think on it," she continued, tapping her fingernails against the folder, drawing Sherry's attention to it. "I wouldn't want you to miss that important dinner with Akemi's boyfriend." Sherry whipped back toward her, but the woman was already retreating into the blaring light, her silhouette even more black than usual.

...

The sun had just set so the sky was still a bright blue, but everything else appeared to be cast in shadows as Gin was about to get in his Porsche.

He stopped when he heard a voice call out for him, "Gin, wait."

He hadn't seen Brandy in the three days since they'd left the train station. She was jogging over to him from her car where she had just pulled in.

"You didn't put another tracking device on me did you?" Gin left his door open talking over the roof of his car at her.

"Another?" Brandy looked confused, but at the same time very amused. "I haven't ever bothered to put one on in the first place. I figured you'd be here because that person has a particular liking for the restaurant in this hotel. That's unimportant though." She got into the passenger seat of his car. Gin got in and closed the door after him.

"Don't assume you can invite yourself in my car."

"You left it unlocked, practically an invitation in itself." she excused half-heartedly.

"I was getting in when you pulled up." Gin said not taking the matter as lightly.

Brandy cut to what she had gotten into the car to ask. "Do you recall how the woman on the train presented herself?"

"They just seemed like amateurs hired for a job they didn't fully understand." Gin said agitation still in his voice.

"That's the impression they left me as well. However, it occurred to me that we might be looking at a rival organization, someone powerful enough to dare try and pull this stunt on us without fearing retaliation. So I tied them up and watched what they would do next. The one I hadn't been holding hostage broke himself free quite easily. Surprisingly he did not help his companion out. After following him when he got off the train I discovered he was with some sort of foreign law enforcement."

"Curious, what were they doing with a group of amateurs then?"

"I believe Professor Kurage had a rather nasty contingency plan in the event of his death. I'm under the impression he sold a foreign law enforcement agency the opportunity to obtain information on the identities of a couple of highly ranked Black Organization members."

"Mainly us." Gin finished for her, signaling his understanding of the situation.

"I'm in need of your skills. I believe the agency we are dealing with is the FBI. Now they won't be able to do anything with their information on us until they receive permission from the Japanese government. In the past few days, I've learned that there is going to be a secret meeting between the two during a large police conference here in Tokyo."

"You're looking to intercept the evidence they collected before the conference. Won't they have already uploaded copies to their database."

"Hacking into the FBI database won't be that much of a problem. It's the physical copies of anything we need to destroy."

Gin thought for a second that she was testing him with this. Achieving the rank of an executive agent within the organization meant that Brandy had gone from Gin's superior to his equal. It was a completely level tier which he was told paid no mind to seniority. Without the command of the boss behind her, she didn't have the authority to enlist his help. It took a moment for him to realize she had been asking and not instructing him.

"Does that person know about this?" Gin asked coming to realize that if this had been an official mission at this point this conversation would have included the boss.

"That person can't." Brandy burst out in a way that Gin had never seen her do before. "Gin you know as well as I what good an agent of a secret organization is when their identity is blown." She turned very serious. "We destroy those pictures of us from the train or we're as good as dead."


	10. TB Arc (2)

Chapter 10

The view from Akemi's high-rise apartment ought to have been spectacular. It was on the fourteenth floor and would look out over the glow of Tokyo lights. The windows in the apartment however were minimal and all that could be seen through them was the side of another high-rise. Sherry found herself staring out of them in habit.

"Dai actually spent a few years in America like you." Akemi was saying. Her natural state was rather cheery, but today her smile stretched a little farther and her words were more manufactured.

"Really? How did you like it?"

"It was as good as anywhere." Dai looked to be thinking back; glancing up at a patch of ceiling. "Very beautiful. I spent as much time as I could outdoors, exploring nature parks. My job was in the city though, so I'm afraid I didn't see as much as I would have liked."

_As good as anywhere? _Sherry thought that his response was somewhat strange. She'd been expecting the typical answers that he was surprised how diverse the population was and how outspoken and loud the people were in comparison. To take no notice of the obvious cultural differences was unusual.

"I don't think I ever remember leaving the city myself," Sherry said, shifting so the reflection on the window glass caught Dai's face.

"How unfortunate." He said. He did seem genuine, _perhaps I'm overthinking_.

Sherry's line of inquiry was cut off with an abrupt knock at the door. Any visitors without the code had to be buzzed in at the entrance, and the three people with knowledge of that code were sitting in the apartment already. Akemi slid off her bar stool to check the door.

"What are they doing here?" she muttered stepping back from the peephole to unlatch the chain. Sherry had been feeling something electric in the air, and it ran down her spine as she turned to face the opening door.

"It's been years," Akemi said, tucking her arms in to hold her stomach.

"I'm Brandy," she said as if already short on patience. "In case you may have forgotten in that time."

"I wouldn't have." Akemi was standing in the doorway, blocking entry. "I'm not familiar with him however."

...

Gin was stuck out in the hallway, looking ominous as ever. He was growing tired of the women's exchange. The girl was borderline insolent to her superior and Brandy was not helping their cause.

"It's Gin," He placed a hand on the door's edge. "And the rest cannot be said so out in the open."

There was a moment where it didn't seem like she was going to move aside. "Of course," she said eventually.

He took a scan of the room. There was a bar cutting off the kitchenette from a small unfurnished carpeted area beyond, and very little on the walls. Gin hadn't realized he was looking for Sherry until his gaze rested on her sitting on a barstool by the window. The lights in the adjacent high-rise made the fray of her red hair glow. She was not watching him in return, instead, her eyes were aimed just behind him, at Brandy.

"Sorry to interrupt this gathering," Brandy said, sounding anything but polite. "We need to speak with the both of you, privately."

"The both of us?" Sherry said, taking a moment's glance to check on her sister, before returning to her unyielding watch of Brandy. _Something happened between the two of them, between the time we were all together and now_. He could read it in the cues they left, and in every line of Sherry's posture. She was more frigid now than professional and the air between her and Brandy was sharp and untrusting.

"I'm sorry," Dai cut in from where he was sitting at the bar. "I'm afraid we haven't met. It's Dai Moroboshi. Is there something going on?"

"It's a rather sensitive matter, we can really only speak with Akemi and Shiho."

"Dai," Akemi wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. "Wait for me in the other room would you."

He glanced uncertain up at her but walked out all the same. Gin thought his eyes were unusually intense for someone who had never seen combat; a little too sunken, a little too dark.

The door to a back room snapped shut and Brandy was quick to start explaining the situation with the FBI. Gin took up a listening position behind the counter. He could monitor the entire room from it. Sherry did not seem pleased at Brandy's words, although she looked like she understood the weight of the situation.

"You need Akemi because she is a fresh face," This was the answer Sherry had been looking for throughout the whole explanation. "Someone the FBI doesn't now have on file."

"Yes," Brandy had been reluctant on this point herself; she hated the idea of relying on someone as inexperienced as Akemi. She'd wanted to pull it off with just herself and Gin, though that was unrealistic. The problem was who they could enlist help from. Anyone in the organization was a risk because they couldn't have the boss knowing about it until they'd pulled it off. Sherry offered the unique position of being just as deep as they were, which made her and her sister the only viable option.

They were all forced by circumstance and all bitter about it. Gin didn't like acting intentionally without the boss's knowledge. His initial instinct told him that they should not be attempting a mission they knew that person would not risk.

But to not act was a dead end. There was more merit in fixing the problem while something could still be done than getting the three of them killed as a precaution.

"Why does my little sister have to be involved in this?" Akemi asked. She had been taking in the explanation with an unreadable face, like a skilled poker player or lawyer, and was now set to negotiate terms. "Surely we can manage with three. Besides it would be more risky to have one more recognizable face in play."

"What would be risky would be to have one less person than we need to pull this off." Brandy snapped.

"It would be in our best interest to find someone else," Akemi was careful not to snap back. "It's a big organization with plenty of faces that are not going to be blown up on projectors at this meeting. Unless you can't utilize the Organization's resources for some reason?"

She had them and she knew it; a smile cracked from beneath her poker face. _This woman was dangerous_, he would have to be more cautious in future dealings with her.

"It is not just our identities at risk here Miss. Akemi. Your sister is at risk herself. She has just as much reason to act as we do."

"I'd bet money the organization had something to do with her identity being compromised in the first place. It's your fault we're here, I won't put my sister in harm's way to fix your mess."

"Watch yourself. You're walking a dangerous line."

There was a sound from the corner of the room, a door snapping shut. Dai Moroboshi had reentered. Gin guessed something like this was going to happen when he'd only been sent to the other room. This did not make his actions any less aggravating.

"I'll take Shiho's place," Dai said, resting a hand on Akemi's shoulder. "You were looking for a solution weren't you?"

Gin had already pulled his gun and had it resting just below the counter. He was sure Brandy had a feel on one of the blades up her sleeves as well. "Your boyfriend seems to be looking to get killed." Gin said.

"I'm offering to help."

"We don't work with outsiders," Brandy said. She was still, though not passively so. Her body was taut like the string of a bow just before an arrow is released.

"So I'll prove my worth on this job and work under the Organization. You knew I'd be eavesdropping and would have to deal with my knowledge of the organization eventually. This way I can protect Akemi, and keep her little sister from harm and you won't have to silence me. Everyone wins."

Gin watched the man with narrow eyes. "And have two wild variables on the mission? No."

Brandy raised a hand to silence Gin. "You will take Akemi's place since you so insist to join. I'll warn you that you've gambling with your life, and theirs."

"But-" Akemi tried to cut in.

"If I change my mind at this point Miss. Akemi I assure you it will not be in your favor." Brandy's words were sharp and quick, silencing the room.

It was clear Brandy intended to take the lead for the mission. She probably hadn't thought twice about it, and Gin had allowed it until that point. But they were by all rights equal within the organization now, and he would not take her more questionable judgments as law.

Gin started for the door and bumped into Brandy, holding the side of her jacket to pull her ear close. "We'll need to talk." She gave a curt nod and let him by.

"We'll contact Shiho, she'll contact you." Brandy addressed Dai on her way out. "We only give orders just before acting, and don't expect to know any more than your piece. And do well, for her sake."

Akemi was still seated at the bar, her hands knotted in the fabric of her skirt. Gin thought that if she'd had something in her hands she would have thrown it at the door once it closed. Though he did not hear a thud as they walked down the hall.

...

Out in the night air Gin found a place with less passing ears in a stretch of a local park where the street lamps were older and cast less light. The dim shapes of bushes were lined with more silver light from the moon than the yellow of the lamps. They walked along the cobblestones, there footsteps filling the evening's quiet.

"Why are you trusting him?" Gin asked, breaking the silence but keeping the same pace.

"I'm not." Brandy said. "Using him? Certainly. But most importantly keeping an eye on him. You had to notice how he held himself. He was forcing his poor posture a little too much, wouldn't you agree? He's obviously had some sort of training that he's consciously trying to mask. For now he's likely to use that to our advantage because our motivations align."

"A strategic move." Gin shook his head, "You're gambling with too high of stakes."

"The stakes are always high," she brushed off. "It was a simple move, simple and ideal. In essence, all I did was switch out one untrained wild card for a trained one."

"Huh. You'd be foolish to believe that is all that will come from this."

"You're overly cautious; it limits your moves, makes you predictable, easy to out play. Kill him if you think it is our best move," Brandy said with a dismissive wave.

"It's not," Gin admitted, "not now at least."


	11. Tb Arc (3)

Chapter 11

The hotel bar was alive with the buzz of laughter and conversation. This was the hotel the majority of law enforcement officials coming in for the conference would be staying at. The bar was the obvious place for the conference attendees to meet up in a casual environment while they were all in town. Sure enough, it was swarming with groups of them.

Brandy sat alone in a dark booth with a paperback book and a half empty whiskey glass in front of her. The ice cubes and solid glass bottom caught glints of the bright wall of bottles behind the bar counter. She found herself staring at them as she listened to her ear piece. She turned the page in her book, took another sip, and glanced around.

The booth was perfectly positioned to be unnatural for anyone else to glance back at, but to have a full view of the room. She found Dai mingling with a group of three men at the bar counter.

She was testing his learning curve, and how he fared in social situations. His goal was to find out which men were in town for the conference, and then procure a pass to the conference from one of them.

Dai was new to pickpocketing, but his marks appeared to be rather drunk, so she had little to fear from the learning experience. She was more concerned with Gin and Sherry who were supposed to be doing much of the same, and at the same time working out the kinks in their ability to work as a team. Instead, the pair had disappeared. Their mics weren't picking up any noise either, which led Brandy to believe they had both turned them off.

Before, while their mics were still on, they had spent equal time arguing and flirting, and no time successfully completing the objective of the exercise or making any headway of how they would function as a team in the future.

The audio from Dai's mic caught her attention.

"Excuse me for a minute gentlemen," one of the men Dai had been drinking with said.

"Wow, careful there," Dai said immediately following. Brandy looked up from her book to see the man having drunkenly swayed from his stool only to have Dai support him. She was sure Dai's hand could have ventured to the man's inner jacket pockets in the exchange.

"Thanks," the man said gruffly, straightening out his jacket.

"Sure," Dai said before returning to the group's conversation. He had either been unsuccessful, or he was smartly waiting for a more natural time to leave the group. Brandy returned to glancing at the book pages with empty eyes, soon turning another page to keep up the charade.

...

"Normally I'd say the girl makes a better distraction but..." Sherry trailed off looking Gin up and down.

It was not the first time Sherry had scrutinized the organization's choice of black clothes and heavy coats. She seemed to like bringing the same points back around as if building slowly on them would make them funnier. Gin had never cared for running jokes.

"I doubt you could pass unnoticed, the bar is mostly men." Gin pointed out.

"But there isn't a police officer who doesn't watch you like a hawk. And as that's who we're targeting."

"They're still men." Gin said. "And you're a young attractive female."

She turned away slightly but he could still see a light flush of red on her cheeks. "So we're at a loss then. Neither of us is suited for the role of pickpocket."

"I'm guessing this was just an opportunity for Moroboshi to prove himself anyways. We won't need more than one pass."

They continued down the hotel's hall. They had left the bar a while back. That was after Brandy had said that since they made an effective team she was having them work together. This caused them to get into an argument over their last mission. They may have accomplished the goal of the mission, but they were closer to a dysfunctional team than an effective one.

Gin had been mad that she had acted recklessly and undermined his authority by running off on her own. Sherry had been mad that she was right, had handled the situation, and he was still mad about it.

"New idea," Sherry said. "We play into both of our target's conceptions of us. I play the touchy-feely drunk girl and see if I can't find the pass, and then you play the shady angry boyfriend that roughs up the guy and see if you can't find the pass."

"You forgot to factor in who your mark is," he said.

"Oh, I doubt that is the only problem with that scenario." She said in that way that anyways made him wonder if that was a joke.

They had come to a door with an exit sign over it. He opened it gesturing for her to go through. It let out into an alley not too far from the main road.

"This is going to make Brandy even more frustrated with us," Sherry said stepping out. He shrugged and let the door close behind him.

"We shouldn't be spending any more time around the police than necessary."

They walked out onto the busy Tokyo street. No one was paying attention to them; they were just two more people in the crowds on the side walk.

"So where are we going then?" She asked trying to keep up with his pace. He was taller and had longer legs so his stride always left her at an awkward place between speed walking and jogging.

"To scout out the location of the police conference. Brandy wants to keep everyone's part separate and secret. That's fine with Dai, but if we're going to be working as partners I'd rather you have the whole picture."

It wasn't long before they came to a tall building that Gin stepped into. "The restaurant and lounge here overlooks the area with the conference tower." After a short elevator ride, they were meet by a hostess.

"Gin," she stood on her tiptoes and tried to whisper in his ear, "this seems like the kind of place you need a reservation for." He looked down at her with a smirk, she was blushing again. Gin placed a business card in the hostess's hand and she immediately had them seated.

One side of the restaurant was a glass wall with a view of the city and the water beyond. The sun was just above the building tops, so it was still too early for a sunset view, but even still the view was stunning.

"The police conference is going to take place in that building." He pointed to a structure more closely resembling a work of modern art than a skyscraper. It was made up of four tan inverted pyramids hoisted up on glass and metal stilts. "The Tokyo Big Sight Conference Tower."

"You are pointing to that one right?" She said tilting her head to the side as if to look around it.

"Yes, the main police conference is taking place on the seventh floor, and that is what Brandy is having Dai get passes to now." Gin said.

"That building doesn't offer a lot of easy escape routes if this goes south." She looked at him with concern in her eyes.

"We'll just have to make sure it goes to plan then."

...

After going over the plan and a few drinks Gin called Brandy to say that they were on their way back. Her voice rang with a calm yet angry tone telling them to meet her outside the hotel.

They walked back over but she wasn't out front yet. Gin had opted to wait in the alley rather than conspicuously waiting around out front after catching the eye of one too many people. Sherry had argued that they should wait where Brandy had said to meet, but eventually gave in walking back the way Gin had gone.

Gin was leaning back against a cinder block wall that had been painted an off-white, just a few shades lighter than yellowing paper. The sunlight beaming into the alley cut a line diagonally across his chest. He was squinting into the brightness of the sun setting. Sherry stepped in front of him, and were she anywhere near as tall as him her shadow might have blocked out the sun from his face.

"Did you know you always grab the brim of your hat when you're nervous about being seen?" Sherry reached up and ran her finger along the brim of his fedora as if she were brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. She started to take it off, but he snatched a hold of her wrist.

"Don't."

"Don't you want to see how it looks on me?"

"Why would I want that?"

"Isn't that one of those things; liking how your dress shirt or hat look when I wear them?"

Gin couldn't help but conjure the image of Sherry in a loose button up shirt, wearing it as if it were a nightgown. His mind had already calculated precisely where on her thighs it would cut off.

"One of those things huh?" Gin, still having a hold on her wrist, flipped their positions pinning Sherry up against the wall. Her arm was now bent over her head and pressed between Gin's forearm and the wall's cool surface. "Isn't this one of those things as well?" He smirked.

He hadn't spoken that loudly but his phrase seemed to bounce off the confined space between them. Gin could feel her pulse quicken in her wrist.

"I suppose it is," her voice seemed to smirk back. "And in the interest of fairness-" She snatched the fedora from his head and tucked it on her own. The back of her head was still pressed against the cinder block, so the hat tipped slightly over her face. She used this to her advantage, peeking a seductive look out from under the brim, up at Gin.

"I still don't see the appeal in stealing my hat."

"Well, the idea is to make me look more similar to you, so you unconsciously like me a little more. You see we have a tendency to trust people who look like us, but I suppose trying to imitate your inherently untrustworthy appearance is somewhat counter-intuitive."

"Huh, you're still a long ways off from my so called untrustworthy appearance regardless."

"Oh?"

He brushed his free hand along the side of her neck and swept her hair out of the way. The back of her neck was now exposed to both the cool touch of the wall and the hot touch of his hand.

Sherry startled when he gave a firm tug at the collar of her jacket. He yanked it out from where it had been pinned between her shoulders and the wall. From forceful to gentle again he slid his hand along the rest of her collar, smoothly turning it up.

"Your collar, your hair, those can both cover your face when you need them to."

"But we don't need to cover them now, do we?" Sherry used the hand not pinned above her head to fold down Gin's upturned collar, running her hand across his shoulders as she flattened the thick fabric against him.

As if he felt a shift in the surrounding air, Gin sensed the presence of another person drawing closer. His muscles tensed and he froze straining to hear. Sherry seemed to notice the sudden tension in his shoulders and stopped moving her hands. A voice sprung into existence, and Sherry turned her head to face the corner of the cinder block building.

Gin recognized the voice of a certain police detective that he'd first run into on a rather uncomfortable bus ride in Kyoto.

"Turn your head." Gin whispered, barely giving notice before tucking his head into the crevice of her neck. The back of his head now faced the corner she'd been looking toward. Sherry had obliged, straining her neck the opposite way. She'd heaved a small gasp in doing so, playing into the charade.

The two detectives turned the corner, the other one laughing at whatever the first had said before. Sherry watched them climb the three steps to the back entrance of the building through the bottom most corners of her crescent moon eyes.

The door snapped shut, and the small amount of fluorescent light that had graced the alley closed in on itself.

Sherry moaned out a hum, vibrating the surface of her neck where Gin had pressed his cheek. This threw him and he pulled his head back in surprise and confusion.

She was smirking. If there was truly one aspect of him she had imitated flawlessly it was that half smile. He was glad to see it adorn her lips.

"Were you even raised in the syndicate?" Sherry teased. "You seem so jumpy and obvious around law enforcement; green almost."

"Because I hide my face?" Gin scoffed, releasing his hold on her and taking a step back. "Clearly, you've never lost someone who couldn't hide theirs well enough."


	12. TB Arc (4)

Chapter 12

Just as Gin had predicted Brandy didn't have any trouble locating them in the alley. The click of her shoes rounded the corner without a pause to consider which way she should look for them.

"I take it Moroboshi received a passing mark then." Gin said, leaning his shoulders against the alley wall once more.

"He's no Vermouth, but he'll play the role we need him to decently enough," Brandy answered. Gin doubted anyone could play Vermouth's part better than Vermouth herself. There was a reason she was the boss's favorite. Whether that was a product of her skill or in recognition of it was beyond him.

Brandy walked over to where Sherry had taken up sitting against the wall across from him. The tension he'd noticed between them before had seemed to defuse somewhat, though traces remained in Sherry's watchful gaze.

"I had hoped to get more than one pass to the conference in case they weren't uniform." Brandy said placing the accusation on Sherry, as if Sherry had been assigned as lead in their partnership.

Gin was growing more irritated with Brandy all the time. Her disregard for his rank had gone too far. It was becoming insulting. He wasn't just above Sherry's rank, he was on equal ground with Brandy and would not be reprimanded by her.

"The less these officers see of us the better," Gin cut in. His voice was partly a reminder of the authority he was due and largely a warning. "Two separate teams for such a simple task would multiply the risk unnecessarily."

Brandy turned back toward him and their eyes met. She seemed to consider rising to his challenge for a moment. She broke it off with an air of nonchalance.

"I would appreciate if you could inform me before you make changes to the plan in future."

"That sounds agreeable." Gin said letting the issue rest for now. It was as if they had been tossing a red coal back and forth and had only just managed to drop it back into a bed of embers before their hands were too badly burned.

"While we're discussing a slight change to future plans. You'll need to be the one to retrieve the badge from that tech guy. I won't have the time. My first appointment was pushed up, and I have a second one which conflicts with the remaining time I could still get it from him."

He knew she had planned to meet up with the counterfeiter just after she'd gotten a conference pass so he'd have enough time to get the remaining passes made. He guessed her other appointment was with a weapons dealer.

"He gets off in just over an hour, correct?" He asked.

"Yes," Brandy turned back toward Sherry. "Why don't you tag along, make sure you two won't have any problems working as a unit tomorrow." Brandy reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. Sherry flinched away, and her body was suddenly all hard lines again. She was quick to recover composure and it became clear that any release in the tension between the two had only been a mask. Gin felt something in him jerk forward as Sherry had flinched away, as if they had been connected by threads. He realized his feet hadn't actually moved, and the protective reflex had only been internal. This shocked him. It had almost been too intense not to be physical.

Brandy's hand hovered awkwardly in the air, and she withdrew it. "We all have places to be." With that, she left the alley, her shoes clicking in the silence they left as she went.

...

Gin let Sherry tag along more to humor Brandy than anything else. He believed their previous complications working together had stemmed from one of them having access to more information than the other. He had resolved this already, and frankly, he didn't know what Brandy thought was going to happen in the space of a single small-scale mission.

He pulled the car into a quiet neighborhood, now fighting less traffic than on the main roads at the height of rush hour. Since leaving the alley by the hotel, he had felt the weight of eyes on him every so often. It wasn't strong enough to spawn the belief that he had an active tail, but just a feeling of something being off. He suspected his nerves were on edge from being around so many police officers before but knew it was unwise to cast off his instincts so easily.

He parked along the curb across the street from the house they'd been driving toward. The street was lined in the long shadows of the sun just as it touches down on the horizon. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary and decided whatever he'd been feeling before posed little threat to them now. Even if it did their window of opportunity was rapidly closing.

One of the windows out back had been unlocked, and it wasn't long before they were inside the house. Finding what they had come for would prove to be the most difficult part.

They were in the house of a tech support guy hired out to help fill in shortages in the conference tower's staff. The conference tower had to bring in more people during their busy season, so it had only been a matter of finding someone with a new enough position that replacing him for an hour wouldn't draw too much attention, but at the same time had been there long enough to have a pass that opened doors. Currently, he was at his other job, so his uniform and badge for the conference tower's tech support team should be in the house.

Gin had no luck finding it in the closet or the hamper and was growing frustrated with the state of disarray of the bedroom. It was Sherry who ended up finding it; three or four shirts down on a stack of laundry that had been piled on a chair in the corner of the room there was a button up shirt with a plastic card pinned to the front. She handed it over, and he carefully slid a razor blade along the back unsecuring the magnetic strip from the card.

It wasn't two minutes later that they were gone, and the house was as it had been before. They'd adhered a new faulty magnetic strip to the back of the ID card and placed it back into the stack of clothes. As far as could be visually determined nothing had been changed. It wouldn't be until tomorrow when he tried to have his card scanned that he'd have a problem, and even then they would assume that the strip had come too close to another magnet and had been ruined.

...

As they were driving away, Gin spotted the first solid piece of evidence to indicate they were being watched. Just as they turned the corner off the street a car had started from the side of the road a few houses down from where they had been parked. He had noticed the car when they came out of the house because it had not been there before. The same car leaving so soon after coming was suspicious, though not entirely unexplainable by several possible normal events. The timing was also suspicious, though it could be chalked up to coincidence. What was most odd was that the car hadn't bothered to turn on their headlights. Dusk had started to fall in the time they were in the house, and the fading daylight warranted the use of headlights.

Not turning on the headlights was something you did when you were trying not to catch the corner of someone's eye. This on top of everything else had convinced him of the driver's malicious intent.

"The blue Lexus that just pulled on to the street behind us, can you read its plates?" The car was lagging the space of at least four cars behind, although the road was empty apart from them.

Sherry squinted into the rearview mirror for a second before trying to look back over her shoulder. This didn't seem to prove any more effective, and she eventually unfastened her seat belt and turned around, leaning over the back of the seat.

"It doesn't have plates yet. The papers it has in its license plate holder are the ones it had when it was sold. I can't read the numbers on the paper it the windshield from here either."

"That will work fine. Just watch to see if it continues following us, or if it shows up again."

"Sure," she said slipping back into her seat.

The Lexus ended up turning right on one of the streets they passed, and despite driving around aimlessly for half an hour they didn't see it again.

...

He drove Sherry home, and it wasn't until he was back at his own apartment that he saw the blue Lexus again. It was parked in front of his building. Relief flooded him as he walked up the steps to his floor.

As he had suspected, there was a woman with blonde hair sitting up to his table and sipping at a glass of wine. He hadn't seen Vermouth since she teased him at the training facility by setting the system to show him his subordinate being executed. Though he was starting to wonder if he might just be wrong about how long it had been.

"That's not your usual vehicle." Gin said conversationally. "I thought it might be the police detective from Kyoto when you started following me earlier. But it was probably you in the alley as well, wasn't it?"

She looked quite amused by this. Vermouth often slipped on a different outwards appearance. Ranging from simple to unrecognizable; she wouldn't be seen for herself unless she wanted to be. He was sure she liked it that way, and she used her mastery of disguise to taunt him.

Part of her game was seeing if he could tell it was her before she revealed herself. Catching him off guard amused her almost as much as she reveled in how it forced him to study her. Eventually, he found a constant in the pattern of her step and now he was afraid she may have finally discovered this and adapted.

"You ran into a police detective from another city in an alley?" She asked. He wasn't sure if she was feigning ignorance or not. "It was me in the Lexus of course. But what I'd like to know is what you're doing with one of the Organization's scientists." She said in a way that implied that she had her strong suspicions as to the answer to that question. Something told him that whether she had been masquerading as the detective or not she had seen him and Sherry in the alley.

She'd been swirling the remaining wine in her glass around, and when he didn't say anything she stopped abruptly as if she hadn't actually wanted confirmation in what she'd been implying.

"Conflicting loyalties," Vermouth placed her wine glass down. "That's the only place I see that going."

He gave her a questioning look, and she returned it with a knowing one.

"She's reckless, you see it." She took another slow sip. "It'll break you, when it happens."

"If."

"No." A devilish smile graced her wine-stained lips as she shook her head. "When." She walked around the table to hover just in front of him. Her hips took extra care to sway with each step.

"You need someone more stable," Vermouth pushed his hair back out of his eyes, grazing her fingertips across his cheek. "Someone who knows exactly what they want most."

He swatted her hand away. "Stop."

"I didn't say it was you I wanted." She giggled and he narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say it wasn't."

"What did you come here for?"

"To give you fair warning."

"I wouldn't let a woman compromise my loyalty to the Organization." he said with certainty.

"I wasn't called in to examine the state of _your _loyalty. Or even Sherry's for that matter. So, for now, my comments on that matter are without consequence and end with us. I just needed you to know I'd be poking around. I can't have you identify me when it would be inconvenient."

Gin had never realized that her little games had given her a weakness. She didn't know how he could identify her despite her change in appearance.

"You just don't want me to interfere with your reconnaissance mission." He clarified.

She smiled in acknowledgment. "As far as anyone is concerned today you were just spooked by that detective in the alley."

He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Precaution doesn't need an excuse."


	13. TB Arc (5) Climax Ch

Chapter 13

Dai swiped the plastic card over the black scanner box near the employee entrance. A small red light in the box blinked twice before the lock of the door clicked open in front of him.

"Head to the seventh floor, and lock yourself in one of the dressing rooms to await further instruction." Brandy's voice echoed in his ear.

He'd been told that they were only going to give him instructions just before acting, but he had expected they'd at least have a brief meeting beforehand to relay him a set of instructions. Not so. He was handed a uniform and an earpiece and was left following step by step directions.

He had been hoping for enough intel that he could piece together the overall plan. If he didn't use this opportunity to prove his worth to the Organization he likely wasn't going to get another chance at its inner circle. That would put him back three years.

Once he was in the dressing room he made a quick check of the uniform for a tracker. He needed to know if she was able to follow his movements or was relying on him following her instructions.

He pulled out the ear piece to check it too. He knew the model and it didn't have a locating feature. A thought occurred to him, and he pulled off his beanie flipping it inside and out. He was always wearing it, and hadn't even bothered to take it off when putting on the uniform, so it made an ideal place to keep a tracking chip. The hat didn't have anything attached to it; he was clean then. As he was pulling it back on a small voice started from the earpiece, and he put it back in. It wasn't Brandy speaking now, it was Shiho.

"Will you stop shifting like an adolescent girl in a bath towel. You're not exposed, you're not even the one in the pencil skirt."

_So they were slipping into the crowd, _Dai guessed Gin and Shiho were doing the bulk of the groundwork for the mission then.

"In the Southwest corner of the building, there's a hall that leads off one of the lobbies." Brandy's voice came through again. "Gin, are you to the seventh floor?"

"They're showing people in now. It won't be long before they try and have us seated."

"Dai's on the other side of the door now," she informed Gin.

So Brandy did have some sort of visual on his movements. Dai took a quick visual scan of the hall, finding a security camera tucked into a corner of the ceiling. He thought it was most likely that they had tapped into the system. He slid the employee card by another black box on the wall, and the door in front of him opened.

Gin and Shiho slid through, and Gin pressed a briefcase against his chest. With that, they walked passed him and were soon out of sight around the corner. Gin was griping about something to do with not having his gun, and Shiho looked close to sighing with exasperation.

Dai was worried for a moment that access past the locked door was all they had needed from him, and this opportunity had been wasted. Something about watching the retreating image of the man with the code name Gin left him with a sense of dread edging into the corners of his mind.

Gin was all his team had to go on when they started this operation three years prior. Information they had been leaked told them that a person with the code name Gin was the bridge to the heart of the Syndicate they'd need. If they could reach Gin, they could reach the Boss. It was what made watching him slip by and out of arm's reach so frustrating.

"Alright," Brandy's voice was back in his ear. "You'll need to take that briefcase to the monitor room." She relayed a set of directions to get him there and warned him of incoming people in time for him to slip out of sight.

His employee badge did not gain him access to the video surveillance room. The black box gave a sharp chirp, and the door remained firmly locked. He'd had to lie his way in, saying he'd been sent to fix an issue with the feed. This would only buy him so much time; a single phone call would inform them that he'd been given no such permissions.

Brandy started listing off what he'd need to do to loop the fed on the cameras in the rooms and hall when Gin interrupted. "Is it clear yet? They're getting ready to start in here."

Hearing this, Dai noticed the discrepancy almost instantly. The rooms 702 and 701 that they wanted him to loop the feed on were empty as far as the monitors were concerned. "We've been beaten to it," he said "the feed for those rooms is already looped. They look empty."

"At least we know that meeting was really supposed to be a secret." Brandy's words were drawn out like she was thinking of her next move. It made him think of chess, and how people keep their finger on top of a piece until they are truly sure that is the move they want to make next.

The problem she now faced was that the FBI could still be confiscating the feed. It was not that it didn't exist, the FBI likely just cut it off from the building's own surveillance system.

"Get out of there Dai," Brandy said, settling on how she would revise her strategy.

One of the guards in the room was on the phone now, listening and nodding along. "Is everything in working order then?" He asked breaking from the call. He seemed more familiar than before, less suspicious of him. This was the opposite of how he ought to be acting.

"Yeah," Dai said grabbing the bag to go. Whoever was on the phone had likely made him, but curiously enough was also letting him go.

Before he left he saw an unnatural jump in lighting on a scattering of the monitors. The natural light from the windows had been dimmed by a cloud in one frame and brightly pouring in the next. Clouds didn't behave this way, which led him to believe more than just the fed from the two rooms had been looped. It had been sloppy though, and the timing that led him to see it had been too ideal. He was being signaled, and if it was by his team he knew just where to find them.

...

Rows of chairs faced the front of the room, and only a few people had already taken their seats. Bunches of government officials and FBI agents stood and talked in small groups passing the time before they were due to start. They were all dressed in formal business attire but were easy to tell apart. The men here on behalf of the Japanese government were middle aged and their faces looked to be made for the stern expression they always wore when they weren't called upon to smile for the press. Whereas the FBI agents were a mixture of caucasian and Japanese faces anywhere from their early thirties to late fifties.

Gin found himself being grateful for the classroom type set up of the room. It was easy to lose a face in this sort of crowd. It would have been difficult to pass unnoticed had this meeting been set around a table.

He and Sherry had not stayed close to each other upon entering the room, but he kept a close eye on her from where he stayed toward the back.

Sherry tucked her hand into her purse as if searching for something and came out with a thick bracelet around her wrist. She had waited until it was absolutely necessary before putting it on, and he didn't blame her. If her wrist was caught between the magnet on the bottom of it and a sheet of metal, the bones in her wrist would easily be crushed with the force.

Near the front of the room, the speaker was on a laptop getting the presentation synced up with the projector. A figure hurried into the room with the pace of a man that needed to inform someone of urgent news, but not so urgent news as to raise the alarm of everyone in the room. He reached the man on the laptop and they exchanged fast words before he set his laptop down on the podium and followed him out.

That was Brandy's work he knew, and the speaker's reaction had been exactly what they had been counting on. Sherry's piece was next; she slipped through the clusters of people in that way he'd been fascinated by before, with all the easy grace of a cherry blossom petal flittering on the breeze. She soon found herself at the front of the room.

He admired her skillful execution of the job. The trick of it was confidence, She did not look for a second like she was getting away with something she shouldn't be doing. With all the simple elegance of going about another mundane task, she opened the laptop and ran her fingers across the keys for a few breaths. She bobbed her head side to side as if waiting for a screen to load and then snapped it closed again.

With luck, both the hard drive and the card in port had just been wiped by the magnet in her bracelet. Her task done, she left the room. When they discovered the damaged drive it was best the woman who had been seen on it just minutes before the meeting was long gone.

Gin remained in a back row of chairs and waited for the meeting to start. They needed to make sure the meeting fell through. Without their bargaining chip, the FBI shouldn't have the intel to trade in order to gain access to operate on Japanese soil. He had to be sure there were no further surprises that would grant the foreign law agency permission to come after the Organization here in Japan.

The speaker returned, agitation in his posture but no trace of anything wrong on his face. He began the meeting, and the audience quieted, the last of them finding a seat. When it came time to bring up the promised pictures on the projector the speaker pressed the small white clicker in his hands. Nothing.

Gin smiled. The man clicked it again to no avail and soon apologized, going to the laptop. He squinted at the screen with narrow eyes for a few seconds, tapping his fingers impatiently on the side of the podium.

The speaker gestured for his companion to come over. Gin didn't recognize the man at first, but in his hand he held an SD card from a camera. It was then that Gin lost his smile

...

The steady flow of police officers here for the conference was still winding its way into the main conference room on the seventh floor when Dai found his way back there. The room sat 1,000 people, and it felt as if they had wanted to test those limits today. He was simultaneously grateful and ungrateful for the hoard of men as he slipped into their numbers.

He knew Brandy had some way to track his movements, but she couldn't be using the security cameras, as he guessed before, because they had already been looped by the FBI by that time. He was free of tracking chips as well. This left him with one final theory.

She had to be following his heat signature. It was why she had known where he was at that time but couldn't find the location of Gin and Shiho in the crowd. This would also explain how they had located the secret meeting place; Brandy had likely followed the path of the government officials through the conference tower.

Dai was ushered through the doors with the others. The massive conference room opened up before him; the ceiling stretched up at least another floor and lights shone down through the glass, framed in the same pattern of triangles within triangles that was echoed throughout the building. Blocks of rowed seating faced a stage that was centered between two huge triangles that stretched to the ceiling.

He was about to take a seat when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Excuse me," the person said as if he had simply bumped into Dai by accident. The gray-haired gentleman tapped his own ear in a question. Dai nodded and pulled out his earpiece wrapping it in tissue.

"What are you doing here?" Dai asked. The aging man who had stopped him was the head of his team, James Black. He shouldn't be in the main conference room; as head of the unit within the FBI targeting the Organization in Black in Japan, he should be at the secret meeting in 702. At very least to keep up appearances.

"More importantly," he motioned for them to walk further toward the left side of the room. "What have you gleaned about the rest of their plan."

"They have a sniper on the roof with a heat scope, and the man with the code name Gin as well as Shiho are in the meeting as we suspected they would be, but other than that." Dai shook his head.

"I see," he gave the information solemn consideration. "I trust you have a plan, and I'll leave you to it. Is there anything you'll need from us?"

Dai gave only a slight pause before laying out the bones of how he planned to spin the operation in order to gain favor with the organization. He was almost finished when he felt the tissue he wrapped around the earpiece buzz with the vibration of sound. He raised a hand to silence an upcoming question of his companion and placed the piece back to his ear.

He came into the last half of a sentence from Brandy "- to get out of there. Why have you gone up to the police conference, Dai?"

This stopped him, he darted his head around looking for someone who had seen him who might have informed her. He should have been lost in the crowds to her, it would just look like a blur of colors from all the people. _Had that deduction been wrong? Was she not watching the conference tower through a heat scope at all?_

"I got caught in the mass filing into the police conference and thought it best to not raise suspicion by acting unnaturally, so I stayed with them," Dai said. _Earlier she had to have been using a heat scope, there wasn't another person in the hallway at that time to have informed her. There wasn't another member of their team besides. How had she kept track of me when I joined the crowds then? _He was off to the side now, so his heat signature would look like an individual person. But the heat from one person was identical to another, _wasn't it?_

"Fine, just find an opportunity to leave before-" Brandy's voice was cut off, though her speaker was still letting sound through. The voices were more distant and he strained to hear what was said.

"Vermouth," this was Brandy, she had sounded startled and then only annoyed. "Don't interfere in the organization's affairs that you weren't assigned to."

"That's not in my nature," This was another woman, presumably Vermouth. "However, we both know calling this an official mission of the organization would be a lie. Isn't that right?" The sound from Brandy's mic cut off immediately following.

There was a long period of silence, but straining to hear was no use. She must have switched it off entirely.

It was another three minutes before another voice came on.

"We have a problem here," Gin said.

No one answered him.

"Brandy?"

More silence.

"Damn."


	14. TB Arc (6) Climax Ch

Chapter 14

The thick heel of Vermouth's boot came down on the small ear bud, smashing it into the hard pavement. Brandy was still lying on the ground, her body in line with the sniper rifle which sights rested in the distance, off the edge of the roof. She strained her neck to look up at the woman who had just cut off contact with her team during an active operation.

Vermouth was pointing her pistol casually in Brandy's direction. The barrel of it barely extended past the trigger it was so short, and all told the pocket pistol probably weighed less than a pound. But Brandy knew not to underestimate Vermouth's marksmanship regardless of the weapon or the nonchalance with which she handled it.

"Before you do something rash, you should know I'm here on that person's orders." Vermouth relaxed her aim further, slinging her hand up by her shoulder. "Or does that not matter to you anymore?"

"That person is questioning my loyalty then?"

"It would seem that person was not far from the mark." She gestured along the length of the rifle, the pistol in her hand a forgotten prop.

"Am I to die for working without that person's knowledge, even if it was in the Organization's best interest?" Brandy asked.

"Those actions were reprehensible, but if keeping a secret from that person were a death sentence I would have died for it long ago."

"What then?"

Vermouth gave a playful shrug. "Nothing has been decided yet, but from what I've seen here it doesn't look good. That person is recalling you back. Unless you have something more pressing that would keep you from following a direct order."

"I don't suppose if I did you'd have license to end me here and now?"

Another shrug graced her shoulders. "Disobeying direct orders from that person is something not even I have dared attempt."

Brandy considered her options. She had two basic choices: eliminate the threat to the Organization by seeing this job through, or following that person's orders. Both were motivated by the same loyalty to the organization. Not choosing one would unfailingly get her killed, not choosing the other could potentially see everyone else in the Organization killed.

She sighed, feigning resignation and pulling herself slowly to her knees.

Then, like a viper striking, her leg fanned out sweeping into the backs of Vermouth's knees. The women's slender legs folded beneath her and she was soon lying with her back to the pavement and Brandy's knee digging into her shoulder, the blunt edge of a knife at her throat.

"I resolved to be willing to die for loyalty long ago," Brandy said pressing off of Vermouth. She had fled from sight before Vermouth had a grip on her gun once more, and never saw the smirk the blonde had not bothered to hide.

...

Gin was at the far end of the room, but he could still tell the small object in the man's hand was an SD card from a camera. This was in part because a piece of him knew everything had gone too smoothly and he was expecting a turn for the worst. That untrusting part of him was waiting for another copy of the photos of their faces to present itself.

The small black rectangle being handed to the speaker now was as dangerous as any weapon and meant this mission was far from over.

The same untrusting part of him that had been watching for this possibility had also been considering what steps to take if it became a reality. Considering the room of FBI-trained personnel, his lack of gun, the fact that starting a fire fight in a room of government officials was incredibly unwise, and not only that but would likely render the goal of this mission - to stop the FBI from gaining permission to act on foreign soil - obsolete, he settled on a less direct plan. He would need the rest of the team to pull it off though.

"We have a problem here," he said into the mic. He needed to get Brandy on board with his plan. She didn't answer. "Brandy." He tried again but was answered only with more radio silence.

"Damn." _Where was she?_ Something must have happened to her. The idea of this whole operation being a set up to capture highly ranked operatives of the organization was becoming a disturbing possibility. He started spinning a plan of escape in the back of his mind alongside the plan of attack.

"Shiho," He called into the mic, the sound of Sherry's given name sounding unnatural to him.

"Yes?" Hearing her voice was a relief.

"Moroboshi," Gin tested.

Again he got an immediate response. "Yeah."

With only Brandy gone they still had a good chance of pulling it off. The thought of a separate unit slowly hunting down and picking off the members of their team made him wary, but he didn't have enough evidence to pull them out of the operation because of it. Especially considering the repercussions of abandoning this one.

"I've lost contact with Brandy and will be taking command of the operation." Gin said. "What are your current locations?"

"The police conference on the seventh floor," Dai said followed by Sherry.

"The West Exhibition Hall, in hall two."

Gin relayed the plan to them while watching the unfolding events at the front of the room. They weren't trusting the laptop, fearing that putting the SD card in it might fry it. Gin gleaned that the SD card was the original from the camera that had taken their pictures, and was also the last remaining place where they were stored. As such they were extremely cautious with it. They sent for another laptop which had bought Gin some time.

Before another laptop arrived the emergency landline for the room rang. One of the FBI agents answered it, and his face soon grew serious. "We need to evacuate immediately," He said gesturing to the others. "There's been a massive chemical spill in one of the exhibition halls and it's gotten into the ventilation system. It's airborne and extremely volatile."

With this, government officials and FBI agents alike were on their feet. Gin had to say he was rather impressed by Sherry in this. He'd instructed her to cause them to evacuate, and he had expected her to pull a fire alarm.

Fire alarms, although effective at getting everyone to evacuate, leave people prone to much eye rolling. Fire drills and constant false alarms have desensitized people to their wale. The chemical alarm that now echoed through the tower was by contrast, strange and terrifying. People acted more immediately to alarming situations they didn't fully understand. Additionally, the foreign alarm made the danger seem more real. Anyone could pull a fire alarm, but this alarm meant the threat was real.

Or at least that's how it had seemed. He was starting to wonder how she had staged this, or if she had actually caused a chemical emergency. Either way, he would be breathing through his coat sleeve for a while.

The men here for the secret meeting filed out of room 702 and joined the milling mass of 1,000 police officers pouring out of the conference room. That group would soon also join the thousands more here for the various conventions Tokyo Big Sight was hosting today.

That was their first priority down, to stop the meeting. Next was to get the SD card before it slipped away.

Every passageway teamed with people, and being caught in the crowd was unavoidable. Even in the massive corridors, men were packed like a subway car in the height of rush hour. Shoulders brushed into each other on every side. It was the ideal environment for picking someone's pocket.

It would be their best opportunity to obtain the photos, and would cause the least damage of all their potential plans. Gin had been tailing the FBI speaker that was currently in possession of the SD card through the river of men. The speaker had undoubtedly seen Gin's face on the pictures from the presentation he was about to give, so Gin picking his pocket would be a near impossibility.

He needed Dai and his fresh face. He had been watching for Dai's beanie in the crowd and had yet to spot it. It was when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he realized that Dai was now next to him, but without his beanie. Gin chastised himself inwardly for the oversight.

He gestured at the figure of the speaker, some five people ahead of them, to Dai. Dai nodded and pressed forward, further into the crowd. Gin watched as Dai meandered around the speaker for a time; he bumped by his left shoulder for several paces, then fell behind him and soon brushed by his right.

It wasn't long before Dai was back at Gin's side.

He shook his head. "He's clutching it in his hand."

It didn't matter what mastery of sleight of hand a person had acquired, a person consciously pressing something in their fist was a near impossible mark.

It was as Gin feared; the speaker was too suspicious by far to slip the card from his possession without him noticing.

"We'll move to the second plan we discussed then." Gin said into the mic. He soon parted with Dai as they each started on their way.

...

According to Gin's plan Dai was supposed to acquire a heavily fortified car and sit in wait at one of the intersections along the route between Tokyo Big Sight and the hotel that had been booked to host a majority of the police officers coming in for the conference. He was going to T-bone into the side of the speaker's car. The airbags would, at very least, render him unconscious for a few moments and Gin would then get the SD card from the car.

It was a plan hinged on the timing of several hard to predict factors. This was not Dai's main objection however. Even if the car crash could be executed perfectly it risked injury, and at worst it risked the lives of innocents. He could not go through with it.

Instead, he found himself running in the direction of a plan with an even slimmer chance of success.

While still back in the conference tower, Dai had calculated where Brandy would have needed to be in order to see the entire tower from the sights of a sniper rifle. He had ended up reasoning that she had in fact been using the heat scope on a rifle. It was after Gin had relayed him his plan that Dai had a brief conversation with James Black in which he figured out how she had found him. The problem was that Dai had never had the opportunity to see his own image in heat vision. Cloth, as it turns out, blocks some of the heat radiation of a person's body; so where the exposed skin of the face and neck may be a bright yellow, the chest that is covered in a shirt is often a minutely darker color like orange, or if a material is very thick, purple. She had been able to pick out which figure was Dai because Dai's beanie blocked out just enough heat radiation that his head was a slightly darker shade of yellow than anyone else's in the room.

Dai relied heavily on the soundness of his reasoning now as he headed to the high-rise he had singled out as the only viable option for where Brandy had been.

He knew Sherry's part in Gin's version of the plan was to delay the speaker from the meeting from getting to his car too quickly. This had originally been so Dai would have time to boost a car and set up the trap. Now, he was stretching that time thin in trying to get to the roof of the high-rise.

Dai was able to beat the crowds out of the tower by slipping back out of the employee entrance. Already ahead of the masses that would hold the speaker at a slow pace, as if he had been caught in a slow wave of molasses, Dai just needed to run to his destination. All told, it took him fifteen minutes, but he was finally on the top floor of the high-rise.

Dai waited for the elevator to finally come to the top, and then ran up the last flight to the roof. The vantage point gave him a clear view over Tokyo Bay, and more importantly the buildings on the bay. He came around to the side that would give him the best shot at the conference tower.

There, sitting with her back to the knee-high wall that edged the corners of the roof, was a woman whose dark stained lips formed the most wicked smirk he'd ever seen. She held the sniper rifle he had come here in hopes of finding. The long barrel of it ran along the lines of her legs, its tip resting on the pavement.

If he had snapped her picture in that moment she would have fit seamlessly alongside magazine covers and calendars of scantily clad women posing with deadly assault weapons for the sake of sex appeal. This remained true in spite of the fact that she remained fully clothed.

Her seductive aura was as natural and effortless as breathing.

"Vermouth." Dai addressed her. Placing her as most likely being the women he'd heard talking with Brandy.

Her lips parted, and the corners of her mouth drew back in a grin. "Moroboshi, Dai, yes?" She said in answer. "A pleasant exchange of false names if I've ever heard one."

He drew in a breath, his hand finding a grip on the gun he'd hidden in the small of his back. Vermouth was quick to bare empty hands, and he drew his hand back from behind him without a gun.

"If I had come for that I would have chosen a more suited weapon." She looked down to the long range firearm resting in her lap.

"What do you want then?" Dai said.

She laughed at this. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you wondering on that one." She stood, hefting the rifle from the middle. "For now, to give you this." She offered him the weapon.

He looked at her cautiously, unmoved.

"You're awfully hesitant to accept my help. We're on the same team, aren't we?" Vermouth placed the weapon in his hands and started past him, leaving him to wonder which team _exactly_ she had meant by that.

...

It wasn't three minutes later when Dai heard a voice come on over his earpiece.

"He's not having anything to do with needing to stop for a medical examination to make sure he hasn't inhaled harmful chemicals before he goes," Sherry said. "He's headed your way. An all black Toyota Crown." She read off the license plate.

Dai had lined up the shot already, and it was now only a waiting game. From where he was he would see the Crown come head on through the intersection. It was not the most ideal angle, and would not be an easy shot. However he knew he wouldn't have enough time to set up a better position, so where he was would have to do.

"He's coming up fast, you better be in position," Gin warned. Dai knew Gin had to be waiting near the intersection because he was the one who was going to retrieve the SD card after the crash.

The black car came zipping into the intersection. Because of the straight on and high angle Dai was looking down at the car from, and because of the model of the car, there was no tire at all visible to shoot out. Though, that had not been his plan.

"Where in the hell are you?-" Gin was in the middle of saying as the Crown flew through the intersection unobstructed. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the car swerved off to the side of the road, airbags already deployed before the car struck a traffic light pole.

Dai had shot out one of the headlights, and the impact to the front of the vehicle had caused the airbags to release. Dai watched through the scope as Gin wasted no time running to the site of the apparent accident.

"Got it." Gin said. Upon hearing this Dai's sniper's sight wandered across the roads in his view, finally settling on a road where several cars were parked along the curb near Tokyo Big Sight. He found a van with blacked out windows.

That was likely where his team in the FBI had set up their base of operations. As if on cue, and in some terrible coincidence of fate, the windows of the van blew out in great balls of flame that expanded out in a flash of orange light.

He darted his sight around the area, soon finding a figure all in black that had ducked behind another car to shelter from the explosion.

"It seems you didn't take much longer than she did to find the FBI's surveillance van." A voice from his immediate surroundings startled him: Vermouth's voice. He soon found a speaker button that had been pressed to the side of the gun. Upon closer examination of the gun, he found a tiny camera in line to watch the view from the scope's sight. "As a test of your loyalty would you mind shooting Brandy? She's been causing too many problems lately."

Dai centered his aim on the black figure retreating away from the van of men and video equipment she'd just blown up.

"No wait," Vermouth continued, a smile in her voice, obviously pleased by his immediate compliance to her command. Dai's aim strayed from Brandy's figure. "In the leg will do, I just need help bringing her in." Dai barely took any time at all before finding her moving figure in his sights again and firing a shot that would graze her calf. Brandy went down and soon another woman in black clothes was standing over her. She looked over her shoulder in Dai's direction.

"A perfect shot," Vermouth said in amazement through the speaker. There was something else in her voice, something deeper that seemed to him to say instead. _I've found you._


	15. TB Arc (7)

Chapter 15

After they had completed the mission, the plan was to meet up at the waterfront park in front of the of Hotel Trusty on Tokyo Bayside. The exact meeting place was the corner of the park where the man constructed land jetted a perfect ninety-degree angle into the water. It was there, on the path that ran along the bay, that Gin waited for his companions.

He could see Tokyo Big Sight in the distance and heard the wail of several ambulance sirens not too far away. They weren't coming for the car accident he and Moroboshi Dai had staged; at least not all of them. Smoke rose in a black pillar from somewhere in the area around the inverted pyramid conference tower.

He remembered hearing the explosion shortly after he'd retrieved the SD card from the speaker's car. Moroboshi had told them over the ear pieces that he thought he saw Brandy fleeing from the scene of an exploding van.

Had she been any earlier she could have compromised the whole objective of the operation. Gin had no idea what she was thinking, or why she had severed contact with them.

Brandy was only one of his problems. Moroboshi had taken it upon himself to change the plan without telling Gin as well. And both of them had changed the plan so evidence of foul play was rampant at the scene.

Sherry was the first to arrive at their meeting place after Gin.

"Did Brandy really cause that?" She pointed up at the blackening spot of sky.

"That's what we're lead to believe," he answered simply. Sherry did not seem pleased at his lack of explanation, but must have heard something in his voice that told her it would be unwise to press further.

Gin did not trust what he couldn't confirm with his eyes; certainly, there had been an explosion, and certainly blowing up an FBI van fit within those actions Brandy would take, however Gin had no evidence to connect the two other than Moroboshi Dai's word.

They were not left waiting for Moroboshi long. He came into view shortly after Sherry, his knit beanie on his head once more.

"Why did you change the plan?" Gin confronted him immediately.

"It worked better than a two-car collision," Moroboshi said with an easy confidence. His apparent lack of concern only deepened Gin's anger.

"It was more conspicuous." Gin said. "That was supposed to look like an accident, but the evidence you left will point investigators away from that possibility entirely."

"The FBI would have suspected foul play because of the missing SD card regardless of how the crash was caused. This way less damage was done."

"But at what cost to the objective of the mission? We were erasing tracks left by the organization, we could not afford to leave more."

"And at what cost of human life did the first plan come?"

The two men glared at each other, both with looks of disgust. "You put the organization at risk-" Gin stopped abruptly, reaching into his coat.

Gin kept a particular tone for messages from the boss now that they were in frequent contact.

You, Sherry, and Moroboshi Dai report to me immediately.

Vermouth had acted more quickly than he had anticipated. The fact that the boss knew they were all together, much less knew about Moroboshi at all, did not spell well for them.

Both Moroboshi and Sherry looked at his phone curiously.

"We're being called in for a meeting." Gin answered their unspoken question.

"Dai as well?" Sherry asked.

"Yes." Gin said, having turned from angry to solemn at the turn of the news.

The look on Sherry's face told him she understood the weight of the boss having that knowledge as well.

"Come on then," she placed a hand on Moroboshi's shoulder, turning him to go.

Gin took one last glance at the foreboding black mark smeared across the sky before starting on his way after them.

...

Brandy sat on the open floor of an office building tending to her wounded leg. The bullet had only grazed her, but that did not lessen the pain much. The large room was empty of office cubicles or chairs and stretched the entire floor unobstructed apart from a walled off room or two and access to the stairs and elevator to one side.

It was not a bad place to die. It was clean at least, and sunlight filtered in through the windows.

The Organization often rented office spaces like this but never kept the same one more than a few months. They were mainly used to ground the dummy corporations the Organization used to avoid prosecution for tax evasion. As such, they remained unoccupied more often than not.

The elevator doors opened and the boss walked in. That person was promptly greeted by Vermouth, who had been resting her shoulders against a nearby wall. Brandy stood, using a wall for support, in an attempt to maintain at least a shred of her dignity. If she was going to die for loyalty to the organization she would do so on her feet.

The now scared over gash across the back of her right hand snagged at a corner of her attention. It had been over a week, but she was still not entirely used to seeing the wound there. Perhaps she'd only noticed its presence because she was feeling vulnerable.

"You ran a mission deliberately without my knowledge." This was not a question. It wasn't an angry statement either. That person had always struck her as the type that was too busy calculating to exhibit immediate emotional responses. In that way, it made the boss's emotional state cool and deliberate rather than hot and quick burning.

"Yes," Brandy answered. There was no point in denying it.

"Why?"

"The FBI got their hands on photographs of several codenamed members of the Organization. I wanted to contain them before they were used by the FBI to gain jurisdiction."

That person nodded, coming to an understanding of her reasoning. Taking steps in favor of precaution versus a timely manner of execution was a point on which they often disagreed and discussed.

"Did you?"

"As far as can be discerned," Brandy said. This was almost an unwisely honest answer. Again that person nodded in response. There was something in that person's expression that Brandy could not quite read, and it was bothering her.

"Were you able to ascertain where the FBI acquired their intelligence into the Organization?"

"The late Professor Kurage arranged for the FBI to take the pictures of the organization members that came for him on the train into Kyoto."

"And you took Sherry on that excursion as well." The boss responded with this more quickly than with the others. It wasn't an emotional response, instead, it reminded Brandy of when a person has found the last piece of the strategy that will bring them victory and they speed up their pace.

"Yes, " Brandy confirmed even though she knew that person already knew Sherry had gone to retrieve Kurage's research. "Kurage's research was likely relevant to her project."

"And I approved that mission," that person waved this off as unimportant. "However, her identity was among those compromised. You were intrusted to protect and oversee Sherry's completion of Silver Bullet. It would be an understatement to say this is our top priority. This means that any necessary action made to ensure her security already has my approval."

Brandy let out a breath. She almost didn't trust herself to be relieved; she had been so ready to die here. The change from the expected outcome left her feeling dazed.

She looked to Vermouth who looked entirely apathetic to the situation. Vermouth had been the one to pull her mid operation, risking its success. It was only now that Brandy thought on the strangeness of her timing. If she had figured out enough of their plan to know where she would be at that time, why hadn't she stopped her before they started? She was pulled from her thoughts as that person began to speak once more.

"That being said." Brandy felt her stomach drop at these words. At the same time, she recognized the implacable expression on the boss's face. It was disappointment. "Because you chose to act without my knowledge you had to use the very codenamed members whose identities had been compromised. Namely Sherry." What happened next was the closest Brandy had ever seen that person get to a hot tempered reaction. There was venom in the boss's voice that seemed to strike out and run a poisonous course through her veins.

"How dare you risk the life of one of the most important people in this organization on a job she did not need to be on in order to protect yourself."

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Vermouth roll her eyes. This hardly registered to her though. Brandy was surprised this was what the boss was most angry about, and perhaps it was because she had underestimated the importance of the project Silver Bullet that she had ended up here.

"I'm striping you of your codename status," the boss said before turning to go. That person stepped onto the elevator, and it was as the large metal doors closed that the now former member Brandy left the organization forevermore.

...

Gin had been sitting in wait for what felt like an hour. The boss had said they'd hold the meeting at a training facility the Organization had in a warehouse. Upon arriving to an empty building, the three of them had taken a seat in the foyer. It was the same place he and Sherry had met, and he had rather expected Sherry to make some comment to that effect. She hadn't, and for the hour they were left waiting they remained silent.

The steel door opening broke the silence, and Vermouth stepped in. She was alone and wasn't wearing a disguise. Interestingly enough, he noticed a sense of recognition in both of his companions.

"You two are supposed to go in," she said opening the doors to the training simulation room. Gin watched Moroboshi and Sherry slip past her into the room. "You'll wait in there until the meeting is over."

She let the weight of the door close itself and walked to the stair landing. She went about all this in an almost uncharacteristically cheery manner, as if these were all the mundane tasks she had to accomplish before she would get something she wanted that she knew was coming.

He stopped her halfway up the stairs with half a mind to ask what had her in such high spirits. Though he didn't feel like having one of her ambiguous conversations at the moment. Instead, he asked, "Where's Brandy?"

"She's left the Organization," Vermouth said, her tone revealing she thought the information to be as trivial as the instructions she'd just given out. It wasn't Brandy's execution that had pleased her then. He was certain Brandy had been executed; there was only one way a code named member _left_ the Organization.

Gin followed Vermouth up the stairs and into the observing room. The boss was already there, silhouetted against the bright glass wall that overlooked the training room. The observation room was dark and the glass had the slight tint about it that meant the one-way glass was in place.

"Did you succeed?" That person asked, still standing at the glass and looking down on the room below. The already white room was washed in bright light. Gin stepped closer to the glass and found where Sherry and Moroboshi Dai stood in the empty room.

"We did," Gin pulled the SD card from his coat. "We destroyed the copies that had been uploaded to the computer for the presentation, the copies on the FBI database, and procured the last remaining and original copies from the SD card of the camera that took them."

That person took the SD card from Gin.

"You believed this task was in the best interest of the Organization, and for your purposes it was, so we will not be discussing more on that topic." That person was already decided on this point. Gin found the way the boss seemed to think when they talked very similar to his own way of thinking; that person was very logical and did not waste time on what they both already knew.

Though it occurred to him that the boss may well simply have a deep understanding of how each of the Organization's operatives think and communicated in the most effective manner accordingly. This only made that person seem all the more clever to Gin.

"You won't ask what misstep Brandy took, but I need you to know nevertheless." The boss said starting in on the explanation. "I told you once that the entire Organization is framed on the completion of a goal that the project Silver Bullet works toward. Brandy was trusted with the task to oversee this project. Her mistake was risking the head of the project on an unrelated and dangerous task. This is a mistake I do not want to see repeated. I'm placing the responsibility of overseeing Silver Bullet on you now, and with it you must know that absolutely nothing is more important than its successful completion."

Gin looked down into the room at Sherry. Her white coat nearly blended into her surroundings, but this only made her reddish brown hair stand out even more. Strangely his first thought in seeing her and hearing this news was regarding what quip Sherry would say if she knew his romanticized role protecting her had just become a reality.

"Now, regarding the one you contracted in for that mission." That person said, leaving a pause after.

"Moroboshi Dai," Vermouth joined the conversation. "I'd say he's the most intelligent potential operative we've seen since Gin. He certainly demonstrated a considerable amount of skill, not the least of which was as a sniper."

Gin saw through her use of flattery as an attempt to get him to agree with her.

"A skill he would not have had the opportunity to flaunt had he followed instructions. He was supposed to stage a simple car accident, instead, he left evidence that a military grade weapon was used."

"A car accident with civilian casualties," Vermouth took to arguing with Gin. He knew she had to have said this for the point of argument; unlike Moroboshi, Vermouth had shown herself to care very little for the human cost. "That would have brought more attention to it. Police attention. As it is the FBI will just want to cover it up. It was a better plan. Perhaps you're just angry because you feel challenged by someone just as skilled as you."

She was trying to get him off topic by attempting to discredit him. He would not be baited. "It doesn't matter what skill he did show. We can't trust an operative that can't follow orders."

"He got the intended outcome, a better outcome perhaps. He also followed my orders when it was clear I was a high ranking member and aided in apprehending Brandy."

"The only reason he is following orders at all is because he bargained his way into the organization to protect Akemi." Gin was fully turned back to face Vermouth in their argument and so was paying little attention to the boss who was watching them with calculating eyes.

"Enough," that person said, silencing them both. The boss turned back to face the glass. "I've reached my decision. Dai will be granted the codename Rye." Gin watched Vermouth as she pulled on a smug expression. It was soon undercut however with the boss's next words. "He will be put under Gin."

It was a compromise that would have left them both grinning at what they had won, had they not been too busy being resentful over what they had lost. Each of them looked as if they would protest to the compromise but thought better of it. The boss had the last say, and it was not their place to question judgments that person made.

Gin's mind turned to his next move. He couldn't go in open defiance of that person's wishes, but the task of dealing with their newest member had been given over to him, which left what he was to do with him up for interpretation.

Vermouth seemed to anticipate his mental shift in gear and was watching him closely. When Gin left to welcome their newest member into the ranks, she was not far behind.

...

The bright white color of the massive training room's walls and floors only made the space seem bigger. Sherry had never seen this room in its blank state before, and it reminded her of a type of torture she'd once heard of where the subject is placed in a white room and given only white food and they start to hallucinate from the lack of stimulus.

She found comfort in the square patterns of the floor. It gave her mind something to study in the time she was left waiting. The squares formed a great labyrinth across the floor, and she could find no repeating pattern in it as she had expected to find. It was customary of patterned floors to have some point of repetition, but the floor was closer to a tetris board in its design.

Dai did not seem to share her interest in the floor tiles. When he first entered the room he seemed to take a quick study of all the mirrored surfaces that now only reflected the blinding white light of the room. It didn't take him long to settle on one mirror in particular, at the height of the second floor.

The door of the white room opened and Gin stepped inside, followed by Vermouth.

"You've been accepted into the Organization," Vermouth said before Gin had a chance to say anything. He shot her a sharp look.

"That person believes you have earned the codename Rye, and so you have. You still have much to prove however." Gin tossed Dai a flip phone, the clear anger behind his words making the gesture seem every bit as rude as it was intended to come across. "I'll be contacting you."

That was all Gin said before leaving again. Sherry was both relieved at the good news and confused at Gin's anger.

Her confusion must have been clear on her face because Vermouth responded to it.

"You don't truly understand what having a codename means do you?" Vermouth was more annoyed with her than in a helpful mood. "Perhaps because you grew up in America and were too distanced from the organization. Or maybe it's because of your sister."

"Akemi?" Sherry said, a slight question forming in the corner of her brows.

"The only people that matter have codenames. Perhaps you were given yours too young and you underestimate its importance. That one little title makes you one of us, a part of us. But even then you are just a part. No one person is more important than the whole, and that loyalty is essential for all codenamed members to have. At least, that's what you don't seem to understand."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sherry asked growing annoyed herself. Vermouth always managed to both treat her like a child and like an adult who should have known better.

"You mean why am I helping you? Who can say. Perhaps I am simply tired of your ignorance, or perhaps I only wanted Rye to overhear because it would be disrespectful for me to address him directly as if I believe Gin had not done a proper job. Then again, when have I ever cared about that?" This was rhetorical of course. Vermouth liked to pretend she was more of a mystery than she really was, or at least that was what Sherry had decided.

...

Moroboshi Dai had arranged to meet with James Black, his boss in the FBI, at the FBI van three days after the conference. Those plans had been arranged before the explosion, but he still found himself standing on that street at the specified time.

He stood at the base of the traffic light and waited for the crosswalk light to come on across the street. The flow of cars blocking his view of the other side of the street finally stopped, revealing James Black on the other curb. He walked over with the change of the light.

"I'm in," Dai said, slipping something into his superior's pocket as they passed by. "My codename is Rye."

James Black tucked a hand into his pocket. "The pictures? But we had planned to have them destroy the originals."

"They would never believe they had completed the mission without destroying the original SD card. So we had to give them the opportunity." Dai explained. "Having only a copy of their faces is enough for our purposes." Dai crotched down in front of the base of the traffic light pole, pulling his nondominant hand from behind his back. He set a bouquet of flowers at its base by an already arranged memorial display of candles and a flower wreath.

"Was Jodie-?" Dai started. He hadn't seen her since he broke off their relationship when he and Akemi got serious. He didn't want that to be their last encounter.

"No, she's not even in Japan right now." James' voice came from behind him. She must have left after he broke it off.

"Let's get these guys," Dai said looking down at the memorial a moment before rising to his feet.


	16. TB Arc (8)

Chapter 16

This was it. Their one and perfect opening to strike at the Organization. Dai looked down at the text message Gin had just sent him on the burner phone. It listed a place and time for his first job as Rye.

Everything his team in the FBI had been doing in Japan for the past several years all led to this single vital opportunity. Their efforts and agents lost would not be in vain.

He had his suspicions that this would also be their last chance using Rye to draw Gin somewhere. Gin would want to test Rye's loyalty to the organization at the first opportunity, meaning this first mission was more than likely to perform a hit for the organization for no other reason than Gin knew he would not go through with it.

The FBI's only move then was to set up a sting at the meeting place. Dai called James Black to make arrangements. They would be hard pressed to get the agents they needed to replace the ones they'd lost in only a few hours, though was sure James Black had already called in for transfers to fill in the gaps.

By that evening they would have the man with the codename Gin that they had received a tip concerning all those years ago. _If they could get at Gin they could get at the Boss._ That was the message of the tip that had brought them to Japan, and now finally they would have the opening to do just that.

...

Several days had passed since anything major had happened, and so Sherry was back in the lab. She had always enjoyed the work; it had a certain rhythm to it that was comforting and familiar and that coupled nicely with the thrill of discovery and innovation.

Of course, she understood the draw of the adrenaline-fueled missions, but lab work had its own appeal of steady progress and accomplishment which made the two hard to compare.

Sherry moved one of the mature jellyfish into a separate cylindrical tank. Jellyfish have a tendency to ride the natural currents of the water and so will likely end up stuck in the corners of a square tank. She'd had the scientists, she'd been given to assist her, order in and move the jellyfish to proper tanks while she was away.

She watched the single jellyfish flow through the tank, riding the currents they'd put in place. She'd had her suspicions as a girl that jellyfish would move with the elegance of a dancer's ribbon because of their thin bell-shaped bodies. Now, she thought that their movement was more relatable to watching someone blink; every so often they contract, and then are still, and then contract again.

She'd separated this one in order to extract its toxin.

Jellyfish don't hold their venom in a particular sac, as snakes do, but on a cellular level where the amount is minuscule. The best way to get it then was to get them to sting an object she could then extract the venom from. When it stings, the cells holding the venom shoot out barbs to get past the protecting skin of whatever they are stinging. So given the right object she gave for the jellyfish to sting, the venom would not be lost in the water.

She'd extracted the venom from several already, but was having a particularly difficult time getting at this one. She placed the object in with the jellyfish, but it wasn't taking the bait as the others had. Even after she had prodded the jellyfish, and presented the object as a threat the jellyfish only moved to swim away, its body blinking in that way she'd observed before.

It was then she noticed that the body of it had started to deteriorate. She recognized the signs that it was beginning to regress against the flow of its life cycle. It was over very quickly. Soon only the jellyfish, in its first stage of life once again, remained in the tank.

It must have responded to the stress of moving tanks and then being threatened. _Stress was a triggering factor then_. Sherry was fascinated. This was the unique ability for which the immortal jellyfish had gotten its name. She had just watched this creature bypass death, effectively running against the stream of time, and it had happened almost between one blink and another.

...

It hadn't taken long for Gin to plan out how he would spin the compromise put in place by the boss in his favor. Or rather in the organization's favor. It would not do to have a codenamed member with a questionable stance on loyalty in the Organization.

The newly named Rye would either have to prove his loyalty or face the consequences of insubordination.

Gin waited in his car, more than a mile away from their meeting location. Precaution was something that he and the boss had always seen eye to eye on. He had sent a scout to check the meeting location; an unassuming old man that could be written off as senile by anyone who thought he shouldn't be wondering about by the warehouses.

Waiting for him would end up making Gin late according to the time he'd sent Rye in the message, but late was better than being caught unaware. Besides, Gin was testing their new member's patience as much as his loyalty.

Gin saw the old man making his way back to him in his rearview mirror. His progress was slow. The aging man was as ancient as he looked. He wasn't tied to the Organization in any real way. The Organization had hired him out of a homeless shelter several years ago, and he understood little about the jobs he was hired on to scout out.

Gin would have sent Vermouth for this task, because of her ideal mastery of acting and disguise. However, she had an unnatural interest in seeing Rye join their ranks, and he was wary of a potential conflict of interest.

The man made it to his window and shook his head. "The man with dark eyes and the cap was standing inside, like you said. I stood inside, like you said. He ignored me, and it was quiet. Then, a man who was hiding came out to warn me it was dangerous there. He wanted me to leave, so I left. He was wearing a navy blue jacket, with yellow letters in English." The man paused a moment before adding. "and a foreigner's face."

Gin hadn't expected this blatant betrayal from Rye. _So he had been an FBI mole all along then. _He couldn't say it didn't make sense.

"You did well," Gin said giving the man his payment. "There is extra, for your observation." The old man took it bowing his head down to the window and backing away with haste.

Gin would need to move fast, his top priority was to get Sherry and her sister out of the FBI's reach now that the danger of their situation had become evident. The FBI should be caught up in waiting for their ambush to go down for at least a few hours, and it would buy him time. Although it would be unwise to rely on that.

Gin took off into the darkness that was rapidly falling over the city.

...

Sherry had just gotten home from her day at the lab when she heard several heavy knocks on her door. It was Gin. He looked determined in that way he only was while already in the rush of a mission, and this alarmed her.

"You're in danger," he said pushing past her into her apartment. "Grab your coat, we need to go now."

She felt her heart rate spike, and she slipped her coat and shoes on without question. She grabbed her purse and they were out the door in seconds.

"We'll have a team come to pack up your belongings, but you're not to come back here again." He said on his way down the stairs.

"What?" She said fairly out of breath from chasing after him. "What's going on?"

Gin unlocked the passenger side of his car manually for her before running around the car to the driver's side. "Moroboshi Dai is an FBI mole who used your sister to get close to the Organization."

"Where's Akemi? Is she okay?" Sherry demanded before even closing her door. Gin reached over her, shutting her door before taking off.

"There is another team securing your sister as we speak."

"Good," Sherry said, relief taking some of the edge off her nerves.

She'd suspected Dai of hiding something, though she hadn't expected it to be this, to be using her sister from the beginning.

They ended up driving a while before they pulled up to another apartment building. Gin's manner had made nonessential conversation seem like it would be unwelcome or inappropriate to her. It wasn't until the door of an apartment Gin already had the key to closed solidly behind them that the tension left.

"Sorry," Gin said as if suddenly aware of his brisk actions. " I needed to get you out of the public's eye. This was the closest safe place."

Sherry looked around. The apartment was clean and well styled, but was still obviously a bachelor pad in its dark solid colors and masculine design. In any other situation, Sherry would have blushed at the realization that Gin had taken her back to his apartment, but this wasn't the time for those emotions.

"You'll have to excuse me," Gin pulled out his phone. "I need to call the other team to make sure your sister's been taken to safety as well."

"Yes, of course." That had already been the most pressing concern on her mind, and she would welcome news on that front. It didn't take long to get it. Her sister was secured at a safehouse, and although she sounded annoyed at the disturbance, she didn't sound like she knew the situation with Moroboshi Dai yet.

The conversation was brief, and soon Gin hung up the other line. Sherry wished they had been taken to the same location, though she knew the Organization was too cautious for that. The FBI had already used Akemi to get close to Sherry and then the Organization once, they would not risk the possibility that they planned to follow Akemi to Sherry once more.

Though Sherry did have another question that popped into her head as Gin hung up the phone.

"Why did you come for me and not Akemi? She's at more of a risk; he's been to her apartment, knows the code. He's much more likely to try and make contact with her as well."

"You're more important." Gin stated simply.

"Don't give me that. If something were to go down, it would happen there, that's where you should have been, for the good of the Organization as a whole."

"Do you not realize how important you are to the Organization, Sherry?" Her codename was a sharp reminder, whether he had intended it to be or not. Her life mattered to them more than her sisters because Akemi didn't have a codename.

"I don't want to hear this lecture again." She snapped. _Vermouth had said quite enough already._

Confusion seemed to wash over him for a moment, but he looked like he decided he didn't want to press the matter after all.

"I've also been made the new overseer of your project." He admitted this gently. it occurred to her that he had probably never heard her snap at someone before.

"Brandy-?" Sherry started in question.

"-went around the chain of command and put the wrong priorities first. What she did threatened the whole Organization. Never again." That last part Gin seemed to say to himself.

The following night was relatively uneventful and was mostly marked by the fear of what may be, making it a rather restless night as well.

...

Gin woke from his place on the couch to a text message from the boss.

In light of the discovery of Rye being a mole for the FBI, evidence points to the FBI already having permission to operate on Japanese soil. The meeting at Tokyo Big Sight was likely a setup in order for the FBI to get their man into our ranks. This means that the FBI might have followed some other lead to trace the Organization back to Japan. We may yet have a traitor in our ranks. Find what brought them here, and eliminate traitors. Keep me updated.

Gin felt this was some sort of unspoken chance the boss was giving him to prove himself after he had made less than ideal choices as of late.

He had an idea of where to start looking for the answers the boss wanted him to find, but would ultimately need Vermouth's help despite his better judgment using her on matters concerning Moroboshi and the FBI.

Because the boss hadn't explicitly said he had the authority to enlist others help on this endeavor, he ended up having to promise to let Vermouth have whichever bottle of wine from his collection that she wanted. She'd wanted him to promise to owe her a small favor, but Gin did not like the idea of an unknown debt and would rather have called the boss to force her hand than agree to such terms, which is how they ended up at the aforementioned arrangement.

He'd had Vermouth disguise herself as a male FBI agent of mixed Japanese and Caucasian descent. The informant he'd sent to watch the team of FBI left waiting to ambush him said that they were still there despite it being mourning, but they looked like they were packing up to go. He'd had Vermouth slip in among their numbers as they left for a new location, in order to hear the topic of their conversations.

Gin left a listening device on Vermouth's jacket. This was more so he wouldn't have to rely on her word than anything else.

To his disappointment, not much was said in the main group of men coming back from their failed operation. Vermouth had tried poking the bed of embers a couple times, but they didn't respond in any useful way.

Finally, as they all got off the transportation where they were all crammed together, side conversation's sprouted. These men would not speak ill of a failed mission or place blame where they could be heard by everyone, but it seemed with freedom to gossip privately came the answers Gin was looking for.

One man said something along the lines of three years being wasted on the mistake of an agent that was too green to their mission and their team, and he shouldn't have been there. Gin attributed the three years to the time Moroboshi first started pursuing Akemi; this information wasn't entirely useful. Another man responded that it had even been longer than that since the tip that had brought them there had been from a year before they started. This was only to be corrected and one up'd yet again, when a third man said that in the tip speaking of that Gin guy the informant said that he had been holding on to the information for nearly a decade. This led to the first man to ask for clarification, and the third explaining that the Gin guy was supposed to be very high ranking and would have-. It was at this point that a blunt smacking sound of the man being knocked upside the head, followed by a sound of pain, stopped their conversation.

Gin recognized Dai's voice. "Have some consideration."

That was the end of any useful information, but enough had been said.

Gin himself hadn't been very high ranking at all more than a decade ago. The man who had the codename Gin before him, however, had been at that time. The only problem was Gin had no idea what the man was doing ten years ago, or who he had been working with in the Organization then that could then have given his name to a foreign law enforcement agency all those years later.

...

Sherry woke to an unfamiliar doorbell. After checking the apartment for Gin and not finding him, in which time the doorbell had rung another four times, she elected to answer it.

There were a couple of sealed cardboard boxes on the doorstep, and she made out the figure of a man in a mover's uniform making his way back to the doorstep with another box. She recognized the man as one of the scientists that had been employed under her.

"Hey, " He greeted her. "There are a few more boxes, but then that should be it. Where do you want them?"

She hesitated, looking back into the apartment and then up at him. Gin wasn't there, and she had no idea what the plan from here was as far as moving her to another safe house.

"In the corner against the wall should do." She stepped inside thinking that it was better not to leave a chance for a sighting of a girl matching her description in the area. Soon the boxes were against the wall and the Organization's scientist left.

She thought it best to get a change of clothes, and so she started going through the boxes. In the first one she'd found a few folded quilts, the second held an assortment of beauty products and a few towels in the bottom. The third had some clothes tucked in the top, and she found as she dug deeper into the box some of her clothes had been used to pack in the more delicate knicknacks and her glassware. Everything had been packed methodically, so each item was snug and safe just so. The next box had more clothes and was enough to complete a new outfit. In the bottom of it there was her small collection of books. It was among those that she found a leather bound journal that she didn't immediately recognize.

It was her father's and she hadn't picked it up in years. It smelled gloriously of that sent that only old books had, and brought his memory sweeping into her mind. Her parents had died in a car accident when she was young, and there was very little she remembered of them, but she missed them dearly. The memory of her father that only certain scents, or sounds, or images could bring was more of an emotion that she held onto rather than an image of the man. She couldn't remember his voice, but she heard the steady constant of the tracks running underneath a train when she tried. She couldn't picture his face, and it was the image of a lab report with its even printed lines crisp on a fresh white sheet, only to be scribbled over and edited without mercy by several multi colored pens that was his to her. She couldn't imagine what his shirt might smell like. Perhaps cologne, or sandalwood, but it was the smell of both freshly printed books of newly minted ideas and old books of time tested wisdom that evoked the thought of him. And all these things felt warm to her memory, like a hug or a comforting hand on your shoulder when a person just wants to remind you that they are there, and would always protect you.

She opened the journal.

She'd always felt it was more of a codebook than the scientific documentation of his work on Silver Bullet. The pages were pressed with words running in knotted sentences meant to evoke a certain memory of his own. He might have drawn a person who sat across from him one day at a cafe, simply before the wrinkles on his forehead made him think of the wave-particle duality of light, which related to some odd other represented thought, that tied a net of thoughts that might or might not eventually lead somewhere. The journal was a tangled spiderweb that someone designed a road network out of and that was constantly stuck in gridlock. It was designed so only he could interpret what was written in it, and despite her many efforts it remained mostly a mystery to even her.

The journal, along with many other personality quirks that spoke of finding an answer in self-inflicted chaos had contributed to her father gaining the nickname the Mad Scientist within the Organization. He had always been called that or his given name which led her to believe her parents hadn't had code names in the Organization. This only left her wondering why she had needed one in order to inherit the project all those years ago.

She got to her feet, the change of clothes and book in hand. It had been several years since she last tried to interpret the journal, and she knew more about the project than she had previously. It was worth another look.


	17. Isle of Mermaids Arc (part 1)

Chapter 17

Gin didn't want to leave Sherry alone and unprotected too long so he headed back to his apartment. He found boxes of her belongings already inside. He hadn't expected them to pack her things up so quickly and had thought he would make it back in time to receive them. The fact that she had obviously answered the door despite the current situation played a mildly annoyed note in the back of his head. He had learned she was plenty headstrong and independent only a short time after meeting her, and so her actions were not entirely surprising.

Some of the boxes had been cut open, but the objects inside had been left neatly packed within. Gin read from this that she hadn't been comfortable settling down, or even moving the items she would need out to a more accessible place. She likely didn't expect to stay here long.

The only item that had taken up residence in the living space was what appeared to be a book. Propped open on the ottoman was a book of pre-lined pages inked with nearly incomprehensible scribbles and sketches. Some of the words were English, some Japanese, still others seemed to be Latin or strings of abbreviations intermixed with numbers, and they all ran into each other without warning. They did not follow the lines of the page either. A small passage in Japanese came down from the right corner in columns in the traditional style, reading right to left and top to bottom, but there was another passage with Japanese characters intermixed with Latin that read in rows just slanted from the lines of the page halfway down. The sketches ran wildly across the page in the same manner as the words had. Some had lines labeling the parts of a picture leading to a stray word or paragraph. They were like diagrams in this way, only the passage often did not make sense with the part of the image depicted. Many of the images were scientifically accurate, still others were distorted or cartoony.

In short, the journal was a mess, and could most accurately be described as the ramblings of a mad man. It was not at all the notebook he'd expect from the professional and organized Sherry.

Before turning his attention from it, a sketch of a face caught the corner of his eye. It was in a more realistic style, and the shading had been done in cross-hatching. He recognized the face as one he hadn't seen in more than ten years. He picked up the book to get a better look.

"What is this?" He demanded from Sherry who had just reentered the room.

"My father's journal for the Silver Bullet project?" She said her question as to why he cared plain in her voice.

Gin studied the riddle of a page once more, finding a date in one of the corners. This had been drawn the year the man in the sketch had died. Typically Gin did not bother to remember the faces of people who were now dead. In his line of work, it meant that now irrelevant faces didn't cloud his thoughts. There was only one notable exception to this rule, and it was his likeness that Gin recognized inked onto the page.

"What was Gin doing with the Miyano couple back then?" Gin asked aloud, though he had not intended the question for Sherry.

"A different Gin?" She asked walking up and lowering the angle of the journal page so she could better see it.

"Yes," Gin pointed out the image of a man lighting up his cigarette.

"Different man, same hat." She chided. The man in the drawing wore a homburg, though the drawing did not make the distinction clear and Gin wouldn't have known if he hadn't seen it in person before. Arguing this would have been childish besides.

Regardless of the type, the hat in the image shaded his face slightly. This might have obscured the features of a different man, but that was exactly how he remembered him. How strange it was to remember his face so perfectly. Gin hadn't intentionally remembered his face, he simply would not be forgotten. He had somehow remained important to Gin despite having died, and that didn't really make sense to him.

The fine points of being close to a person were mostly lost on Gin. He had never been terribly good at developing close interpersonal relations, to begin with.

He'd been brought up in the Organization, and any sense of unity or belonging he'd experienced was to it. He had his parents to thank for his initial ties to it, though he had never been close to them.

He'd _had_ parents, but only in the same way a person might have a teacher in school. Or rather, a distant teacher that sat at their desk and didn't like to be bothered with too many questions. They were there, he'd been expected to show them respect at the time, but now they were only a mildly significant memory.

Gin had only ever had one person to whom he equated the feeling of closeness, and it was losing him that had left him so hesitant to cultivate close relationships since.

"I was not the first owner of the code name Gin," he started in explanation. "The organization dates back at least half a century, so I doubt even the man before me was the first either. He was in his thirties."

That had seemed so old to Gin back when he was fifteen. Old enough to be wise, but still strong and young enough to be cool. He was everything that Gin aspired to be at that age, or perhaps he was the reason he grew to want them. He was the smartest man Gin had ever met. And in the arrogance of his youth, the only one he felt could match wits with him. Allowing for the perspective of time, the man had been able to put him back in his place, and he respected him for it. Gin did not say any of this, not that he'd hero worshiped the man, nor that he was like an older brother.

Instead, he covered more trivial ground. "He was an executive member, near the center of the Organization's inner most circle. When he died I took the opportunity to ask for a legendary code name."

This was not the whole truth. His grief stricken and angry fifteen year old self threw himself wholeheartedly into the work he was doing for the organization. Where before he had only passively gone through the motions, after he'd been told that the only person that ever mattered to him had been killed on a mission, there wasn't a part of his brain that wasn't entirely dedicated, and more importantly occupied, with the work. He had a mission to prove himself, and it was after a year of this that he all but demanded the codename of his lost companion from the boss.

It had been very presumptuous of him to do for several reasons. Two of which were: One, it was that person alone who gave out member's codenames. Asking for a specific one simply was not done. Two: the codename Gin, of such a previously important and highly ranked member, implied that the person being given it was expected to advance to a high place within the organization. Demanding such an honor upon oneself was beyond arrogant.

It was a shock to everyone that the boss had complied with his request. Furthermore, that person had not given a reason as to why, but it was not anyone's place to question that person's judgment.

"I was coming up on sixteen," Gin added as if this explained everything.

"I beat you to it by three years then," Sherry said.

Gin recalled knowing this from when they first met. Thirteen was a bafflingly young age to be given a codename. Before he had fought to be granted one just before he turned sixteen, he had never heard of a member being given one before they were in their late twenties. This was yet another reason why his demanding one had been so presumptuous. That had been ten years ago, and since Sherry was nineteen now she would have been given hers six years ago. Perhaps he'd paved the way for a younger person to be granted into the Organization's inner circle.

"How did you end up with a codename so young anyways?" He asked. She looked surprised at his asking.

"After my parents died I was sent to America for school. When I came back, in order to take on their project, I needed a codename. So I was given Sherry." She sounded like she was cutting around the truth, bearing only the least revealing of details. He wondered if he had sounded just as transparent when giving his explanation.

Both of her parents dying at once sounded suspicious, but inquiring further opened up an avenue for Sherry to ask a similar question regarding the nature of his namesake's death. That was _not_ a topic he wished to think on.

"Then a personal loss started both of us toward gaining a codename in our young age." He said, more thinking aloud than for Sherry's benefit. Where they were within the organization at their age was every bit as depressing as it was impressive.

...

Sherry was somewhat surprised at his words, and she doubted he had meant to voice what he had just said. _A personal loss_, that was his phrasing. She recalled another occasion in which Gin had let a glimmer of pain and deep emotion slip through before. _Clearly, you've never lost someone that couldn't hide theirs well enough._ Theirs being their face and identity.

She put the two together. The man who had the codename Gin before him had been important to him and had died when his identity on a mission was compromised. It was an old wound, but it must have been a deep one for it to slip so subtly past his guard.

"Well, what else is on the page?" Sherry asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to what Gin had said in passing before. What _had_ Gin's namesake been doing with her parents the year they died?

Gin sat down on the couch and regarded the open journal page yet again. She took a seat across from him, sitting on the edge of the ottoman. She was looking at the page upside down, but seeing how she had studied the page before she thought the new perspective would be more helpful than not.

Across the top of the page was what appeared to be a line graph. It steadily rose to a peak, then fell a short way, only to rise and fall in another smaller peak just after and decline to the level it started on. The x and y-axis were not drawn in, much less labeled. She was sure her father had known what it measured, or on what scale; she didn't. The only clue was its title. Written in Japanese kanji was mermaid. What he could possibly be measuring about a creature that didn't exist was beyond her. Of the codes she'd partly been about to decipher she'd found the labels to be related in some obscure way. Knowing this had led her to research many random facts about strange items drawn or mentioned. From that time she had learned about a Chinese story of a mermaid that cried pearls, many of people falling in love with them, but mostly lure concerning the bad luck of running across a mermaid. They were said to be bad omens of storms, or even the cause of storms and shipwrecks. There was also the Japanese folklore that told how consuming mermaid flesh or bone could lead to a long life or even immortality.

Before, she had decided that it was some graph relating to Silver Bullet, because of the constant of immortality. This also made sense as the myth and the word were Japanese. Having decided it was important only made not knowing what it measured all the more frustrating.

Gin seemed to be having a difficult time with the passages with lines drawn to the picture of his namesake. Those were ones she had already been able to crack.

"It's a joke," Sherry said pointing to the end of the chain of passages. "Those are scientific equations that deal with the composition of cigarette smoke and how it would react in the body. That last part is latin." She ran her finger along the phrase reading it aloud. "'mors certa, hora incerta, nisi si...', which means 'death is certain, its hour is uncertain, unless...'." She smiled. "The first two parts are a common latin phrase, the last I'm sure he added."

"A self-inflicted short life," Gin said unamused. "Is everything in this journal so maddeningly unhelpful?"

"What was that thing you said before?" She mused. "Oh, yes: 'I'm sure you understand. The Organization has a great many secrets.' Which means that the most sensitive of those, the ones that have to be written down for consistency of research, shouldn't be left so just anyone can read them."

"Fine," was all he said to this. He looked down at the page in an annoyed sort of fixation. "What can you tell me about the mountains?"

"Mountains?"

"At the top, it looks like a mountainous island. Have you cross referenced that profile with any nearby islands?"

"No that's a-" she stopped herself. _Maybe it wasn't a line graph at all_. "Mermaid island," she said testing the phrase aloud. "Is there such a place?"

As it turned out, there was a small little-known island the locals referred to as the 'Isle of Mermaids.' It had recently earned a spot in the gossip about local legends circulating around Japan when a storehouse on the island burned down and they found the burnt corpse of a mermaid in the ashes.

The profile of the island matched the sketch exactly, which lead Sherry to believe he had pressed the page up to the window glass of a ferry in order to trace the line.

If her father had seen the view of the island from a boat and Gin's namesake on the same day, it stood to reason he had accompanied them on the journey.

This line of thought was what ultimately started them on a journey, retracing the steps of the loved ones they'd lost on a trip they'd taken in the year all three of them had died. The grim idea of looking into the events that occurred in the months leading up to their deaths hadn't been at the forefronts of their minds. It was only as Sherry flipped through the next several pages that she realized the entries stopped all at once because that was when he had died.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Sherry realized the count of the pages between the page they were on and the end. There were four whole pages in between there and the end, and nine faces of pages until that last page. Four and nine; death and suffering; both were profoundly unlucky numbers.

...

Getting that person to grant them permission to look for clues on the Isle of Mermaids had been easy. Gin found the arguments for the benefits of the mission overwhelmed any possible negative outcomes.

Gin would be looking into events that likely would help him find out who the FBI got that tip from. Sherry would be able to decode more of the Miyano's lost research which would help the progress on Silver Bullet. Sherry also would be out of Tokyo, where she was in danger of being seen and used by the FBI, and on a remote and little-known island.

They were packed and setting off for a long rest of the day traveling within the hour. It was there on the train that Gin settled down for a long period of searching his memory banks. The Miyano's journal might offer some clues about what they were doing there, but he was likely to find more useful clues in something small he might remember from back then. Gin had known the man for more than five years before his death, and they had spent almost an uncomfortable amount of time in each other's company during that period. He had to have overheard something. He had a very sharp memory, which was why he had to intentionally discard unuseful information.

He wanted to be thorough, and so he started at the beginning of what could potentially be relevant and systematically shifted through the information.

Gin's parents had been important figures in the Organization, though he wasn't actually supposed to have that information as a child. He was prone to eavesdropping, and from that habit of his youth he had learned that his father was a spy for the Organization in the Japanese Government. His family hosted many events and meetings, but the interesting information was rarely gleaned out in the open.

His father held private meetings at his home office, and closed doors only spurred his curiosity.

He had a favorite spot for such occasions; one he had half found, half created. On the second floor, above where the office was on the first, was a bathroom. This bathroom had a floor vent. Although, even as a small child crawling through normally sized air ducts was an impossibility. What he _had_ discovered was that if he removed the first section of the duct, there was an open space where it had been that went into the hollow wall and down into the wall of the floor below. He'd had to widen the crawl space a small amount and push back some of the insulation, but eventually he'd cleared a space to suspend himself in the wall alongside the air duct that ran down into another vent in his father's office. The spot was just big enough for his preadolescent body to slide into. The remaining drywall still left too much of the noise out of his range, so he'd ended up having to make a slit so he could hear. He'd decided the best place for it was where an opening already existed; he widened the hole in the wall where the office vent's grate was secured, to make it look like the hole made for the vent had simply been cut a millimeter or two too large. After all this was done, he'd completed his perfect eavesdropping spot.

After many months, Gin had gained a plethora of interesting knowledge. Most fascinating to him was the monthly visit of a person he now knew as the boss of the Organization; those visits were when he had discovered his father was infiltrating the Government and keeping the Organization informed.

It wasn't eavesdropping on one of _those_ meetings that had wrenched his life in a vastly new direction however. The meeting in the office he overheard that changed everything was between the boss and a man Gin had only just seen for the first time an hour before. A man he would one day take a codename after, in his honor.

He slid into his spot soon after seeing the two walk into the office and lock the door. He came in on the last half of the boss's sentence. "-and because it would do you good to train the 'little brat'." That last phrase had an inflection to indicate they were quoting back the other's words.

"I don't see how." the man's voice was deep and had a rasp to it.

"That much is obvious, however I'm not giving you a choice in the matter." that person said. This wasn't how he was used to that person talking. When the boss talked to his father, they spoke like two friends who were bored in a business meeting and were sneaking satirical words. It was peculiar to hear the same voice take on such a different manner. "You'll not be going on any missions until you feel he's ready to tag along, and then you will not go on any alone."

"You're punishing me? That little brat is barely ten, he won't be ready for ground work for years yet."

"Perhaps by then you'll be able to work with a team."

There was an audible scoff in reply, and then the sound of a door snapping closed.

"Kid." the other man called out, shouting over his shoulder in the direction of the wall Gin was hidden inside. "You're not the first person to think of eavesdropping, so don't expect to have a monopoly on the idea. Get down here."

He had been stunned. Surely this man hadn't found his hiding spot. Gin couldn't see the man, so it was a surprise when he heard a knock on the other side of the wall. "Get out of there, right now."

Gin didn't respond, hoping to call a bluff.

"Fine, first lesson kid," he said, exasperated. "If you can hear them, they can hear you."

He offered no response again. This man couldn't really believe his father and that person had known he was listening all this time. Surely they wouldn't continue to let him do so for so many months. _Would they? _

"Second lesson," he voice was a wry smile. "Dry wall means relatively little to bullets." There was a loud metal sound of the man cocking a gun.

"Wait, don't!" Gin called out in haste. "I'm coming."

"I look forward to it."

It was on odd sort of memory for Gin. It had taken a year after that for Gin to even like his new tutor. He thought that it probably took much longer than that for the man to stop despising his existence.

It was Gin's earliest memory of his namesake, and so he hoped it might give some clue as to what the man was up to before he'd been made to instruct him. _What had he done that made that person pull him from missions like that? It had to be a downfall of not being a team player. Some mistake? _Perhaps it was the same mistake that lead the FBI to Japan that Gin was looking for now.


	18. Isle Arc (2)

Chapter 18

The ferry that made a daily circuit to the small island hosted a fair number more passengers than Gin would have liked. The fact that the destination warranted a daily ferry alone was worrisome. Gin made the majority of passengers aboard out as tourists. The ferry company seemed to be turning a nice profit by marketing the island as having been on national news the prior year.

He noticed the boat was not in short supply of pamphlets to that effect. A few described a local festival, another covered the fire of a storehouse the year before which revealed the charred bones of a so-called mermaid, another told of an elder on the island who was rumored to have gained a long life from eating the flesh of a mermaid. Gin did not examine these past their titles.

Besides the overabundance of tourists on the covered level of the ferry Gin had spotted men with small notepads and the professional look of reporters. He steered out of sight of these men. This led him and Sherry to be standing at the rail of the boat as it drifted into the island's small port.

The ferry glided into its spot where a half circle of posts jetted out of the water in order to correct the course of the vessel as it pulled up to the pier. The aggravated water churned in whirlpools dancing around the posts as the ferry displaced the previously settled dark blue waters into a stunning jade color that made the movement of the water easier to follow.

From the deck, Gin could see the first of the ferry passengers step off onto the pier below. He recognized the reporters among them and grabbed the brim of his hat in reflex. This only brought the thought of Sherry and her previous comments on his habit to the forefront of his mind. He grasped her arm just below her shoulder and pulled her back from the rail a few steps, in order to get her face out of view of the men below. The reporters were met by more members of a news crew waiting for them just beyond the pier. The group of men shifted and intermixed much in the same way as the water in the bay had.

"What?" Sherry said twisting back to face him. The motion made him realize he'd left his hand fixed to her shoulder. He let his grasp fall slack, only to find a hold on her wrist directing her after him as he started back toward the ship's stairs.

"We'll want to get out of sight before they start filming." He gave in explanation.

They slipped into the wave of tourists washing up onto the small island's shore. There was a main road running along a small collection of buildings that composed the town. They were met by an even heavier flow of tourists walking among the trinket shops and street vendors than there had been on the ferry.

The small quiet island they had come in hopes of finding was nowhere to be found. Instead, they were assaulted by a flood of people's voices and the aromas of various meats frying on grills, along with many other savory and sweet dishes that wafted out into the crowds.

Gin's hold on Sherry's wrist held fast as he cut a line to the local inn, ducking out of view of the men pulling out large cameras and other filming equipment from their bags.

The inn's door shut out the majority of the crowds and noise behind them. There was, however, a group of four men at the counter. Their thick leather boots and somewhat muddied jackets made them look like hikers rather than more of the festival tourists clogging up the small island.

"Don't suppose you'd know where they keep the arrows." One of the hikers was leaned over the counter, to keep his conversation with the clerk close. "I'd be willing to pay for information of that sort."

"I'm sure," the man at the counter said. "Unfortunately, I rent rooms. You can pay for one of those, or you can leave." The man looked past the group at the counter to Gin and Sherry at the door. "Welcome. I'll be with you in a moment."

The _hiker_ pushed off from the counter. "Why don't you go ahead of us." He addressed Gin. "My friends and I still want to sort out the- sleeping arrangements." The group of them pulled off to the side of the room and seemed to start arguing in hushed tones.

"There are quite a lot of people in town," Sherry said making conversation. Gin imagined she thought it beneficial to come off as nice to the locals.

"This is nothing compared to the news crews that swarmed the place when the warehouse burned down. National news, can you believe it." The man's eyes smiled at them. "This is just the crowd here for the one year anniversary and the official burial of the bones."

"Oh, so they're just here for the event," Sherry gave a sigh of relief. "I was afraid it was always like this." She wrapped herself around Gin's upper arm leaning her head against him.

Gin was very conscious of where they now touched; barring the odd occasion, their physical interactions to that point had been Gin holding her; holding her wrist, or directing her arm after him. This contact felt different, even from when she'd touched him before. He was vaguely aware of the fact that this sort of contact should have felt pleasant and warm, and to some degree it had. There was also a slight feeling of alarm; his training told him to be wary of someone so close to where he kept his gun.

"You're not here for the festival?" the clerk asked.

"Not originally, but I'm not against the idea of going." She said with a cheery tilt of the head. "We plan on staying a while longer than just the festival. The island has an interesting history. Is there some place we could rent for a longer period of time? Maybe somewhere a little more private. We were looking for more of the remote appeal of the island." Sherry said, every bit the part of a blushing newlywed. He was sure she intended to use the facade to manipulate the locals. It hadn't taken her long to pin down which story would be most effective.

He made a point of keeping his hands in his pockets. Whatever the explanation she intended to fabricate as their reason for being there, probably somewhere between a lover's retreat and a honeymoon, he made a point not to contradict her implications.

The man behind the counter turned to look through the drawers of a filing cabinet. "The mermaid lure of the island does have a certain romantic appeal doesn't it. I wonder if we won't see more of your sort now that the island has spent so much time in the media. Better than the unsavory type the attention it currently seems to attract." He made a point of raising his voice so the so called unsavory characters would hear his comments. They didn't seem to pay him much mind. They were more occupied questioning a local girl who worked there about the arrows they had inquired after before.

The clerk found what he had been rifling through the filing cabinet to find and shut the drawer. "I don't mind the tourists so much as the fortune hunting type the media attention has brought us. We did see tourists before the bones they found went and made our island famous, but we never saw _their_ type until the news story made the festival's arrows seem so much more valuable. It was actually a couple not unlike yourselves, who were interested in the mermaid lure of the island, who built the cabin off in the woods more than a dozen years ago that I think you might be interested in. I thought for sure they would end up staying year round eventually, but they ended up leaving it to me to rent out not two years after they completed it. You remind me of the woman. Elena I think it was."

"Elena Miyano?" Sherry jumped on the opportunity to ask, perhaps hoping to cut into the long winded man's speech before he started up again.

"Yes, you know her?"

"My mother."

"Strange. I feel like I should have known. You're so much like her. She was a sweet soul." The man's eyes gleamed with a remembered joy. "Though I would have thought they'd have brought any kids in later years if they had any."

"They passed away more than a decade ago, probably not long after you last saw them."

"My condolences. I'm sorry to hear it, they were good friends." For once the clerk fell silent, his flowing monologue turning internal and sorrowful.

"The cabin?" Gin prodded hoping to spur the exchange back to its original purpose.

"Right, it's very isolated if that's more what you were looking for. Though I'd be careful walking about that area in the dark because of the sharp drop off of the gorge. That's why I don't normally rent it out to tourists or the fortune-hunting like." He handed them a key and a rough map of the island that outlined the paths that lead to the cabin. "I would give you directions, but really it's safer with the map." There was an unspoken implication that he didn't want to say the directions aloud where the fortune hunters could listen in.

"Thank you," Sherry said as they started on their way out.

"I almost forgot." The clerk's voice caught them just before they were through the door. "You can sign up for a chance at the arrows in the festival if you'd like." Gin, impatient at the delay in getting out of sight of the cameras that the wordy man had already caused, nearly did not stop at the door. Sherry caught at the edge of his jacket. She gave him a knowing look as if to say it would be unwise to be rude to this man. The clerk had not stopped speaking. "They're a charm for keeping bad spirits away. Err- well it's supposed to aid in giving you a long life. Anyways, you needn't worry about what I said about the arrows being more valuable nowadays. Signing up for the drawing is the same as it's always been. And that's not very much. I'd hurry and see if there's still an open spot for the drawing. I don't think too many of the tourists know it's only five yen since we see mostly more of the affluent type heading to the shrine."

"Thanks, we better be on our way then," Sherry said finally managing to get through the door before the clerk found something else he wanted to say. They were out in the crowds once more, being careful to both blend in and face away from the large cameras that panned across the festival's crowds.

"The long-life charm can't be a coincidence," Sherry said, the cheery newlywed manner lost. "We should sign up for one and see if we can't find the connection. The locals would probably discourage the filming of the festival's ceremony itself so it should be safe to go."

Gin nodded, still holding close to her as they made their way to the edge of the crowd and then out of sight of the cameras covering the event.

...

A couple hours had passed since their arrival and it was only a matter of minutes before the festival was due to start. The sun had long since left the sky dark, and the night air bite at Sherry's nose and cheeks turning them slightly red.

Crowds of people clustered in front of the shrine in anticipation. Though, Gin and Sherry held back further down the road. They could still see the crowds outlined in torchlight and heard the clamor of tourists from there, but they were far enough back to not even be considered on the outskirts of those attending.

Sherry held the numbered marker that represented the slot she held in the raffle for one of the festival's arrows. She'd ended up signing her real name on the records given that she had already indirectly revealed her identity to the local hotel clerk. If Gin had been paying attention he probably would have discouraged this, and truthfully she knew better. But Sherry felt a strange sort of connection to the people on this island; as if she was already a distant part of it. Her parents had been friends with the locals, not an easy feat unless you were practically one of them. And they had sounded like they were, at least in part, one of the locals.

She squeezed the marker tightly against her skin, having pocketed her glove earlier in the evening. Its meaning was so much deeper than holding a place in a drawing. It was, somehow, a symbol of the closeness she craved to feel again with her late parents; the same as the island itself only in a smaller tangible form.

She spoke at a normal volume to Gin. She had little to fear in the way of someone overhearing them. Everyone on the island would be at the festival, and they were far enough from the crowds so not to be overheard.

"Did you end up getting the hair?" Sherry said. She had asked Gin to try and get a hair from the elder earlier, and the opportunity arose when they ended up speaking with her briefly at the shrine when Sherry signed up for the arrow raffle.

The festival's arrows were originally for keeping bad spirits away, but the reason they were also said to prolong a person's life was because the arrows were made with the hair of the elder who was rumored to be unnaturally old.

Gin held out a fist above her hand, and dropped the strand when she opened her own. Sherry had to pocket the marker first, but caught the white strand. Originally Sherry had wanted a strand of the hair in order to examine it for unnatural changes or properties that might give clues about the elder's long life. However, the elder's hair had looked strange to her when she saw it in person at the shrine, and she now had a hunch.

She ran her fingers along the strand, sighing inwardly at being proven correct.

"Well?" Gin asked as if expecting her to perform some feat of magic 'science' that would tell them something immediately helpful. She _had_ found something, but it was the implication that science worked in that way that was irksome.

"The hair is synthetic, this whole festival is just a production. You can tell because real and synthetic hair behave differently. Pinch a strand of your hair between your fingers and run them down the length of hair. Now pull back up. With real hair, there is resistance going against the way it grew, with synthetic it is smooth both directions."

"It's not like we were expecting her to really have gained immortality from eating mermaid meat." This was true in part, they had expected this to be a sham.

But they both know immortality was possible. They had seen those who never grew any older than they had always been to them. It was why the organization chased after a salve for immortality so aggressively, because they knew it could be achieved.

"I thought they may have a wig of human hair at first, but one of those that looks realistic costs more than this production would profit them. What doesn't make sense is the hair they wrap around the arrows. They'd have to be reasonably confident they wouldn't be found out for a sham with such powerful people signing up to get one. Perhaps those are human hair, even if they aren't from the so-called elder."

"Is it really worth checking, if we know the elder is just a costume?" Gin said. Gin was perhaps too quick to rule out possibilities he saw as impossible. She figured that it was useful when making the on his feet decisions his work often required, but also left room for oversight when situations were more complicated than they first appeared.

"There are still questions I want to look into. They said they were burying the bones tonight."

"Of the woman they are calling a mermaid?" His skepticism was all but insultingly condescending. "You want to see them don't you?"

"The folklore mentions both the flesh and the bones having the power to grant immortality. I just want answers, Gin. You could say I'm just as suspicious of everything being chalked up to superstitious locals as you are to believing in their alleged supernatural causes."

He seemed to accept this.

There was a crashing sound behind one of the nearby buildings that caught their attention. _Had someone been spying on them?_ Before it had really registered to her Gin had already run after it. She chased after him, though he had stopped at the back of the building and no one was nearby.

A fishing net had gotten caught over a couple of boxes, and the boxes had been toppled like someone had gotten their foot caught in the net.

They hadn't said anything that unusual or sensitive considering the bones were probably what everyone on that island was gossiping about tonight, but she didn't like the idea of being spied on, and neither did Gin from the look on his face.


	19. Isle Arc (3)

Chapter 19

Gin scanned the brush behind the buildings for movement. He and Sherry had been standing in the dark long enough for his eyes to have adjusted to it. Even still the black outline of plants at the forest's edge did not sway like someone had just cut through there. Meaning whoever had knocked over the boxes had not retreated into the treeline.

Someone had obviously just gotten their foot caught in that fishing net and caused that noise, but they must have run back between the buildings and slipped into the crowd at the festival.

The thunderous pound of drums started a short distance away, covering any chance of Gin hearing the retreating footsteps of whoever had just been spying on them. For the person to have made it far enough away that Gin hadn't spotted them when he made chase meant they must have left just before Sherry finished speaking. What had made them run? Surely something triggered their desire to stop eavesdropping and move away.

Gin started along the other side of the building, following the direction he guessed the other person would have gone. The path between buildings let out at the edge of the festival's crowd. The tourists had quieted, but the festival's drums still covered any suspicious noises he might have followed.

Sherry tugged at his sleeve. "Take my arm." She said.

He did, taking up the manner of a couple out on a night walk rather than a man in pursuit. They blended into the edge of the festival's crowd. Everyone was standing with their sights on the front of the shrine. Sherry had been correct before in assuming that the festival's ceremonies would not be filmed out of respect. He found where the news crew was standing in the crowd without their heavy equipment. A couple of them held wooden markers for the arrow raffle as well.

He continued to glance around the crowd, looking for anyone acting strangely. A wise man would stand still like the others. But, having already made the mistake of knocking over those boxes human nature made whomever he was chasing likely to look back for someone following him.

No one was darting glances back at the crowd through, all eyes were glued to the shrine where the elder had emerged. He didn't care about the festival's ceremony and so looked away for a moment only to have his eyes drawn back to the front of the shrine when the amount of light coming from that direction increased. The elder had lit fire to the paper screens of the shrine. Numbers emerged blazed in fire. One by one the short elder moved the long end of a pole, that she must have lit the end of in the large torch in front of the shrine, to three of the front screens on the shrine. Three numbers burned in light before the crowd, and the three corresponding people in the crowd exclaimed in excitement.

A woman explained that traditionally they would now ask those who had won an arrow to met at the base of a waterfall, but this year they would wait until the burial ceremony was over to hold that event.

For the next half hour, the service for the unidentified women took place. There was no mention of the rumors that the bones had belonged to a mermaid. Gin could tell which adults in the crowd were locals and which were tourists. The tourists remained just as fascinated as they had been by the fire and drawing for the arrows. This was just another spectacle to them. The locals were in contrast now entirely respectful and somber. This wasn't simply an interesting event, it was a funeral, even if the bones did not have a family to attend it and perform the more traditional rituals.

The bones did not look inhuman at all, they were simply missing the bottom half. They probably would not have been mistaken for a mermaid at all had there not already been existing lure about them tied to this island. Gin remained convinced that whatever they might find on this island it likely wasn't tied to the festival or the bones.

"Satisfied?" he turned to Sherry. Her eyes were wide and she wasn't responding to him. He realized in shifting to look down at her that she had been clutching his arm more tightly than she had been originally.

"Sherry?" He grabbed her shoulders on either side, trying to get her to look at something other than the burial before them. Her eyes didn't focus on him and seemed somewhere far away. She was compliant in looking up at him though. As if slowly floating to the surface of consciousness she blinked and came into her surroundings again.

"We should go," she said staring into the blazing torch light a moment before starting away from the crowds.

Funerals were symbols of grieving, and were supposed to affect people emotionally. Even if a person wasn't connected to those who had died personally, the ritual of it pulled people back to a time when they had lost someone. Gin was aware of this, but at the same time felt somehow exempt from the social convention. The Organization did not hold funerals; did not dwell on death. Sherry did not maintain that same emotional distance, that was clear.

They walked back to the cabin in the woods in silence. Both of them had already memorized the way there and left the map in the cabin with their belongings. Sherry didn't seem obliged to talk about her behavior at the funeral and Gin had no intentions of forcing her. He kept a close watch of her though, making sure she didn't zone out again.

They made it back to the cabin without incident and found the cabin to be nearly as cold as the night air. They hadn't started a fire before they left and that was the small cabin's primary source of heat. Gin got one going, but it wouldn't warm the interior for hours.

That first night was cold, and was made even more so by lingering thoughts of death and grieving. Watching Sherry pulled back to that place led his own thoughts to people he had lost. This was perhaps the same social convention he had considered himself exempt from, this shared mourning.

They both layed out on the floor in front of the fire place to sleep, and Gin found Sherry staring into the flames more often than he found her asleep when he woke up periodically to tend to the fire.

...

Gin was up early to get the fire going again. The cabin had warmed up considerably, but he didn't want it to go out and leave the place cold when they were gone during the day this time.

He knew it was still too soon after arriving to start digging for information from the locals. Sherry had made a good start on getting them to trust her, but it would be weeks or perhaps months before they could get the sensitive answers they wanted. Certainly, it was too close to tourist season to get decent answers.

Instead, Gin elected to search his own memory again for clues as to why his predecessor came to this island with the Miyano's and if there was a connection to a current spy within the organization. If nothing else it would be helpful to have information on the man fresh in his mind while searching the physical island itself for clues. They would probably scout out the island when Sherry woke up, but he had a while before he expected her to get up.

Gin couldn't think of any more direct references the man had made to the time before they met off the top of his head. However, he did consider the fact that what the man was most conscious of may have bled into his training. What he most highlighted may potentially have to do with safeguarding his student against mistakes he had made himself. Mistakes that may have led a spy to know that his name could lead to the boss.

If someone would have asked Gin's younger self what he had been taught by his tutor anytime during the first several months of his training he would have responded, quite bitterly, that he hadn't taught him a single bloody thing. This was, of course, untrue, he was in the middle of his first major lesson for that entire span. He wouldn't see that until the end of those months, and wouldn't appreciate his tutor's brilliance for many years after the bitterness had faded.

The lesson had started on the first day when his tutor had taken him to an organization training facility and run him through a moderately difficult simulation completely untrained. He had programmed the system to give him a number score, that would print out on a fax. He then told Gin what score he would have to achieve before he was given a gun to carry on his person. He also told him that if he hadn't achieved that score by the time he was thirteen he would never train him at all.

The man went about all this with an air of disinterest, making it clear he had little faith in Gin's ability to accomplish the goals he set for him. He'd given the impression that when Gin would inevitably fail at this that he would be absolved of his charge to train him.

That first day was the most he had said to Gin in that entire time period. He made no further efforts to instruct him at all. Gin was quickly fed up with this laissez-faire style; he wasn't just letting him teach himself he didn't expect him to succeed at all.

He was mad for a few days, then that triggered his natural propensity for defiance. The same streak of defiance that had led him to eavesdrop so much in his youth before then. That, in turn, made him determined. He was worth training, and he would prove his tutor wrong; he'd force his hand and make him train him if he had to.

He set out studying how to hold and fire a gun. How he was supposed to stand, and how to improve his aim. He went to the training facility he'd been taken to before on his own and worked through the different difficulties of the simulations from the beginning levels. All the while set on the idea of surpassing the goals his tutor had put above him.

Occasionally he ran into his tutor in the lobby of the training facility, and would ask him a question trying to prod him into acting like a real teacher. He would give simplistic answers, some more helpful than others, but never said more than he was asked.

After several months of this, he was ready to confront him about the gun. It was a week after he had decided this before he saw the man again in the lobby of the training facility reading something Gin couldn't see the face of, set inside a folder.

"Here's my score." his younger self held up the paper at the same level of his face, his expression determined. It was twice the score his tutor had said he needed to get. "Now you owe me a gun."

The man looked up, only marginally less disinterested than before. "Good, now you're not liable to shoot yourself in the foot, and we can get somewhere."

Gin's feeling of triumph played across his young face as if it had been written there. After months he had finally done it. He had proven his tutor wrong, he was worth training, and had shattered the man's low expectations for him.

His tutor watched him with an underlying expression of guilt, though Gin had not placed it at the time. His tutor paused for a moment before deciding something.

"What do you think the point of this exercise was?"

"The point?" Confusion washed over him. "What exercise? You've been ignoring me for months when you should have been teaching me."

His tutor's mouth formed into a pursed smile before continuing as if Gin hadn't responded. "The first real lesson you needed to learn is that fighting isn't all about combat. You need to be aware of when someone is manipulating you. Also that it is always more beneficial to them."

Gin sat down on the floor cross-legged, resting his jaw on fisted hands. He didn't know what the man was talking about, but he had worked this hard for the man to teach him anything and wasn't about to throw that away now.

"As you are, you are a very easy target." The man informed him.

Gin scowled up at him, thinking of protesting. The man was saying he had actually done what his tutor had wanted him to do all along? If he'd wanted him to train he should have just instructed him in the first place.

"I wanted the gun, that's all." Gin said in defiance. He wouldn't let this man pretend like this is what he planned all along, and steal his victory from him.

"No, I don't think that's it. You had never wanted a gun before then, did you? And I wasn't really stopping you from getting one."

Gin's scowl continued.

"So what did you really want?" The man posed the question.

"To prove you wrong."

"Yes, in a way." He gave an amused laugh. "but deeper than that."

There wasn't anything deeper than that! That was the thought that Gin had in his mind every time he had strained his body training these past months. His tutor didn't think he could do it and he would prove him wrong.

Gin rephrased to appease him. "To prove myself."

The man took up that wry smile of his. "To whom?"

Gin considered this for a moment, finding the answer but not wanting to say it. He'd wanted to prove himself to his tutor, the same man he had been despising all that time.

"You wanted my approval because I made you feel I was above you by showing you your shortcomings and denying you acknowledgment." His tutor explained. He was right, and Gin hated him for it. He hadn't won anything at all, he'd only been manipulated into thinking he had, manipulated into behaving exactly as his tutor had intended.

It had been a hard first lesson to learn, and experience would always be a better teacher than being told outright. Still, it was a brutal lesson for someone as young as he'd been to come to terms with.

So the first real lesson he gave was to note the existence of psychological warfare. Meaning he likely had experiences where manipulation played an important role. His mentor wanted to safeguard him against being manipulated by others. It wasn't what he might have expected of a first lesson, and its unusualness only made him think the man before him must have had bad experiences with it in his time.

A thought occurred to him in passing; if his mentor hadn't thought of teaching him to guard himself against manipulative people he probably would have fallen prey to Vermouth's wishes ages ago. He still wasn't sure if his interactions with that woman left him entirely unswayed to her will. She was a master of her craft and their every exchange seemed a battle.

He shrugged this thought off, trying to think of other clues as to what his namesake's bad experience with being manipulated in the past might have been.

...

The soft morning rays woke Sherry when the sunlight on her skin from through the window became hotter than the fire in front of her had been. The firelight now seemed dim in comparison.

She'd spent so much time mesmerized by that flame. The torchlight at the burial made her think of crematories, and car crashes, and the last time she'd seen her parents before their accident: the day they left for a trip they'd never return from. Then that day a month later when she left for America and everything changed.

She stood brushing the ashes from last night's fire from her clothes and looked around the room. This cabin had been her parents'. It was much more welcoming now in the daylight. She shook the blankets and folded them before placing them on the end of the bed.

She found Gin outside sitting on the bench at the edge of the gorge overlooking the drop.

"That seems like a terrible place to put a bench." She said to get his attention. "Though I suppose my parents were never ones for safety precautions." She had crossed her arms in front of her stomach because of the cold.

"I'd say it's the opposite, it reminds you it's there," he said jumping to his feet. "We should go into town and get some food."

"It would be helpful to meet more of the locals too, get them used to seeing us." She made a quick detour to get her coat before she started into the forest towards town.

Upon arriving in town they found several locals out in the street and in uproar, and a small crowd of remaining tourists watching from a distance. There was a rough half circle of men with arms folded and cross expressions. They were circled around the area the mermaid bones had been buried the night before. Even from that distance, she could tell the dirt had been disturbed.

"Why would-?" Sherry started in utter disbelief coming closer to the site.

"Grave robbers," one of the younger men said before she had formed any sort of question. "Damn them."

The grave had been dug up in the night and a few of the bones were missing. The men around the site grumbled words of anger, checking if anyone had seen who had done it. No one had.

Sherry backed away after giving her own exclamations and pulled Gin aside. She made sure she was truly out of earshot this time and whispered directly into his ear.

"How much do you think mermaid bones would go for given the right buyer? Mermaid bones rumored to have already granted someone an unnaturally long life."

He gave her a strange look, this was not what he had been expecting her to say.

"The fortune hunters." He said coming to an understanding. "You don't think what you said before-"

She gave him a look that stopped him from finishing that thought. That was exactly what she thought; mentioning the bones were just as valuable as the flesh of a mermaid that had been burned and lost in the storehouse fire had led to the bones being stolen.


	20. Isle Arc (4)

Chapter 20

Sherry swallowed down an uncomfortable feeling of guilt at being partly responsible for the desecration of the mermaid grave. She couldn't allow that to cloud her mind now. Not when this mission was at such a precarious tipping point.

Handled correctly the situation with the grave robbing may be just the event to pull them closer to the locals. Such an atrocity held the power to bring people together in their shared status of witness and ability to empathize.

The opportunity was monumental, but at the same time, it made her feel manipulative and sick at using it. This couldn't be better in the way of accomplishing their goals than if they had planned it. But having caused it- _to first cause such a devastating event and then take advantage of it by empathizing with the locals over it._

It felt wrong.

She couldn't let herself keep thinking about it this way. Surely her guilt showed on her face. If they misstepped at such a fragile time for the island they'd lose everything. The community was wounded and would soon pull together. They could either be in that group, or be excluded. If they handled this poorly, they would be iced out the small island's community forever. They'd be no different than tourists that simply stayed past their welcome.

Despite the nausea it caused her she whispered her thinking into Gin's ear. He was quick to agree. Now was the time to act. Act, or accept this mission as a failure.

They walked up to a group of mostly local women standing back a ways from where the majority of men stood around the grave site. The men that had come out to deliberate around the grave site would be too set on wanting to act in some way to fix things this morning for it to do any good talking with them past expressing their shared anger. They likely would pay little attention to anything not pertaining to finding the perpetrators or otherwise fixing their current problem.

Today their efforts were best spent among those that hung back. Sherry bet it would not be long before this group started working to emotionally contain the situation. If anyone would remember their efforts to empathize and console it would be those who thought to do likewise. Sherry came up to a middle aged women she'd seen working in some sort of restaurant or cafe the day before. It was likely a place only open during the tourist season, but still it put her in more of a serving position than the others.

"Can we help by cleaning up the last night's festivities, or perhaps getting something warm for people to drink since everyone seems to be up anyways." She had carefully crafted this question. Instead of simply offering help that could be answered with a yes or a no, she offered two options to chose from. The woman might still refuse both, but it was slightly more likely she would pick one instead. It didn't really matter what they offered to do helpwise. The idea was getting the locals to do something to busy their hands and occupy their minds.

"A good idea." The woman gestured for a few others in the crowd to come aid her, instantly forming a committee. "It's a rather cold morning. I'm sure everyone will appreciate something warm to hold."

Gin and Sherry soon found themselves delivering steaming cups with the others. This made a good segue to meeting a great number of locals all at once. The immediate gift also lent itself to being more easily accepted and trusted, especially considering they could attribute that gift to the group of women doing likewise, making it less suspicious.

Other islanders took their cue from the group that had started moving about and soon found helpful tasks to busy themselves with rather than remain standing around gawking.

...

They had a good starting point now, and worked themselves into the tasks of the locals all the while remaining helpful and empathetic. This would continue for the next few days. As the small community recuperated they made sure to make their presence felt. They consoled, and empathized with them, essentially cajoling the locals into liking and trusting them

Gin had wanted to spend some time exploring the island, but they put it off, opting to remain where the locals could see them during daylight hours. She figured this would help put any doubts the locals had about them at ease. People you knew where to find a majority of the time were markedly less suspicious than those you were not used to seeing.

After those first essential days the tone of the island shifted back towards normal life. They continued to remain prominent members of the community, hoping to secure a place of trust before withdrawing. They had been at the act of the good couple for several weeks before Gin came to her with interesting news. He spent time away from her with the men of the village on some evenings, under the presumption that men were more likely to talk about serious matters without a woman around.

"The elder wants to move the burial site, but doesn't want anyone to know where it will be this time." Gin said. "She doesn't seem to trust anyone."

They were on one of the daily walks they had started taking to explore the island. They'd wanted to slowly disperse the time they spent in town to more useful activities, but didn't want to stop showing up all at once, and increasingly longer walks were an easy way to do that.

"Even locals?" she asked.

He nodded. "The men she has been having look over the bones say they'll only be responsible for them for a few more days. They seem to have given up on finding the handful of bones that were stolen as well. The general feeling is that it was concealed in luggage and taken off the island weeks ago."

"But the elder obviously doesn't feel that way, if she's not telling the locals the new burial site. She may not be so old as her appearance would like us to believe, but is she really so young she could bury them in secret herself? The locals don't question how long she's been around and the very youngest I've heard is eighty. She also has a great granddaughter in her mid twenties. Is it possible she has achieved some form of eternal youth, and is only disguising herself to look her real age?'

"Unlikely," Gin said, ever the skeptic. "An easier explanation would be everyone is lying."

They had reached the far side of the mountainous island, long since out of range of overhearing ears so they spoke frankly. The hike up this side was supposed to give a good overview of the ocean at the end, but currently trees covered out that way and shaded the path they were on.

"Sure, they could be lying, or they could be being deceived. We still haven't seen one of the festival arrows up close. I haven't seen anyone on this island with long white hair either." The path switched back, and she could read that Gin still thought investigating the arrows was a waste of time. "The elder could be playing her own descendants, using the great granddaughter as her alternate. It would explain why both her sets of grandparents and parents have been mysteriously lost at sea. She was playing through the generations to explain her youth."

They stopped a moment and Sherry watched Gin think through this possibility. It made sense, but also probably made him think of Vermouth. She'd heard a rumor that Vermouth had played the descendants trick in order to maintain the fame of one of her aliases, an actress that had made it big. This hypothetical woman was even more similar to Vermouth because of the skill in makeup she would have to have in order to pull off the elder.

"Let's hope that's not the case. Women that have been around that long are- difficult." He started up the mountain side again, and Sherry stifled a laugh.

They were soon at the overlook sight were the path wondered out on the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. They had a clear breadth of sight over the tree line and to the ocean beyond.

"So, why are we here?" Gin asked taking in the view. Waves fell onto the shore in shelves and they had enough vantage to see farther back beyond the sandbar before the waves broke into white peaks.

She pulled out her father's journal. She'd wanted to go on this particular hike on a day when the waves were big, and at the hour of low tide.

"There is kind of a distorted mushroom shape with a line through the stock right before the cap. Anyways I think it's a diagram of a rip current breaking through the sand bar. I figured that since they spent a lot of time on the island the diagram may serve as a reminder of something else he could see from the view where you could see that particular rip current."

She scanned the choppy water for a break in the waves. Her eyes settled on an unnaturally calm channel of water that ran from the shore line to the sandbar. The undercurrent there stopped the surface water from breaking the waves into white peaks that might roll over themselves and crash on the shore. It was deceptively calm. Under that patch was what essentially acted as an underwater river that flowed out from the shore and passed the break in the sand bar.

The diagram suggested this particular rip current was formed between large rocks that jetted out of the water. And the line of the undercurrent did head toward large rocks shapes poking out of the water about where she expected the sandbar to be. She held up the page and compared the images almost certain she'd find them the same.

Only they weren't.

The water running below the surface was churned a bright shade of jade green making its path easier to follow than most rip tides were. Instead of going between the rocks, as the diagram suggested, the water flowed around them off to the right. There was a clear gap between the rocks that should have allowed the channel to run through, but the water acted like something was blocking its natural course.

"Can you see anything between those two rocks?" She pointed out where she meant to Gin. Waves smashed into the rocky shapes, throwing water up into the gap between the two.

"No." his word was drawn out as he peered more intensely at the spot on the water. "Not from here anyway."

"I think there must be something blocking the flow of water under the surface where we can't see it. Something that wasn't there before? Or was the point that he drew it wrong in the first place? Whatever is there must be of some importance." She said thinking aloud.

There was a peninsula that cut out into the ocean by the rocks that would offer a closer view of the water in question. They went to investigate. It took more than two hours to climb down from the overlook and onto the land where they could better see the water at the base of the two rocks. The salty air sprayed them with mist as they got closer to where the water was smashing itself against the back of the rocks and cliffs.

From that new viewpoint, they could see a dark shape in the water. It wasn't quite the same shade as the other rocks, but she had been right. It was blocking the channel the undercurrent had run along before.

"A boat?" Gin guessed.

Now that he mentioned it, it did look an awful lot like a sunken boat was blocking the channel.

"There's not a port on this side of the island."

"The storms around here are known to throw boats into cliff rocks." He pointed out. Evidence of shipwrecks supported what the locals said about a history of people being lost at sea. It also was a strike against the elder lying about family being lost to storms.

Sherry suddenly remembered what she'd heard about mermaids being bad omens of storms or the cause of shipwrecks. A chill ran down her spine, though they were standing in a particularly windy spot and the sun and just gone behind a cloud.

They headed back to the cabin not long after finding the boat. Sherry set to work researching news reports of missing boats in the past decade. It was one of those that caught her attention and not for the reason she had hoped at all.

Island Locals Lost at Sea During Major Storm: 6 Presumed Dead.

Among those names were Mr. and Mrs. Shimabukuro as she had expected to find. Names she had not expected to find were those of her parents. A Mr. and Mrs. Miyano.

Her parents had died in a car accident when she was young. There was no doubt about that. They couldn't possibly have also been lost to the sea during a storm.

Sherry remembered the day she'd been told her parents were dead vividly. It had been a terribly foggy morning. A woman in black she would soon know as Brandy came to their door. Sherry just kept asking question after question, unable to accept the loss. Akemi had been silent, stunned perhaps. Brandy answered everything she'd asked, maybe even giving too much information to children that had just lost their parents when Sherry pushed for it.

She explained that while on their way home from their trip they had gotten into a terrible accident on the freeway. Several cars had collided, and their parents car had been caught in the chain reaction. They swerved into oncoming traffic trying not to be caught up in it. Sherry would not believe this could happen until Brandy had explained the fog had made it very hard to see and the cars were going very fast. Sherry had looked up reports on the accident and found the news video of the crunched and scorched metal frames of vehicles from that morning, along with pictures closer to the time of the crash. Pictures of thick black curtains of smoke rising above flaming cars. The news anchor explained that once a fire has started somewhere in the crash the spilled gasoline quickly spreads the flames to the other cars involved.

No, there had been no doubt her parents were dead.

A funeral had been held that day. She remembered screaming when they cremated the bodies. Screaming that they had been burned enough already; traumatized by the pictures she had looked up. She hadn't known most people in Japan were cremated. Until the burial on the island, it was the only funeral she had ever been to. The Organization generally did not hold them for their members. Or at least she'd never seen one held for any other member, despite knowing several that had passed. Black was a grieving color, but she had the feeling more than just syndicate members had been there. This supported her theory that her parents hadn't had alcohol code names.

Akemi had been too young to take over as Sherry's legal guardian at the time, and the Organization shipped her off to America to go to school.

There had to be some mistake.

She scrolled through the rest of the article. An island local had given a statement to the reporter researching the incident. He confirmed that the six had departed in the morning and that they had received a distress signal over the marine radio from the boat minutes before it was believed to have gone down.

She recognized the name. It was the hotel clerk they had first spoken with on the island. He had either lied to the reporter or had known her parents were dead all along.

...

Gin and Sherry walked casually through town like usual. It had only been a month and a half and already taking her arm while they were in town came so naturally. It wasn't even something he thought about consciously doing anymore. He'd had to adjust to it at first, nulling the alert that came with allowing her to be so close all the time. Now he found they were locking arms before he was truly aware of it.

They broke from the routine and entered the inn. The clerk was leaning against the counter. A smile in his eyes, like always. Gin looked down at Sherry next to him. There were no false smiles and doe-eyed glances back at him today.

It occurred to him that perhaps they ought to have waited until Sherry was less emotionally charged to do this. This occurred to him much too late.

"You knew my parents were dead." Sherry wasted no time in getting to the point.

"Yes," he answered. Whether she had intended it or not she'd sparked a knee-jerk reaction of guilt from the man. "Though I never knew they had children."

"You lied about my parents leaving you the cabin."

"No, they did leave it to me at the beginning of that year. I never understood that. I always felt she knew they were going to die; like she was preparing for it. And that couldn't make sense because it was a terrible accident-"

"Accident? They were lost at sea?" Sherry was confused, and angry, and sad, and not the least part her usual composed self.

"Yes, but not in the storm like I said to those reporters." He looked relieved to be getting this off his chest, and also terribly sad. "I was protecting someone at the time, and I guess there's no point 'n that now. I was the confidant of the sole survivor of the sinking, and she wanted to pretend to perish with the others. The woman had been carrying on the tradition of the island by dressing up as the elder, but after the boat went down she hid as the elder full time. I don't see the harm in telling you now she's dead." His expression turned dark. "Fire took her just like it took the others. Even a decade later, it still-" His speech choked, and he held back sobs with gritted teeth.


	21. Isle Arc (5)

Chapter 21

The hotel clerk was hunched over the front counter, resting his forearms on it. His hands were clasped together. They trembled and the knuckles were white from being clenched so tightly. Sherry did not look much better, overwhelmed by her own set of emotions.

"An accidental fire sunk their boat? Then what was she hiding from for ten years?" Gin took over the interrogation.

"I always suspected survivor's guilt. She confided in me, but only so much. We lost our good friends that day, she lost her husband. It was too painful to talk about." He pushed off the counter and pulled a cassette tape from the filing cabinet. "I do have this, a recording of the distress signal they sent out." The clerk looked to Sherry, worried at upsetting her further.

"Play it." She said.

He brushed a layer of dust off an old radio in the corner before hefting it onto the counter. He put the cassette in and they listened to the whirring sound of the machine adjusting before the audio started.

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday." A woman's voice shouted on the recording, she was panting. "This is Ningyo Maru, repeat this is Ningyo Maru, Ningyo Maru. Mayday! Ningyo Maru, one, one, Echo, Lima. In the bay on the south side of the island. There's been an explosion on board, the boat is on fire and sinking. Immediate assistance required. Five people on board, likely in critical condition or already dead. I'm in the water and badly burned. Over." The recording seemed to start over, but he noticed a slight change in the timing. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday-" The clerk shut it off.

"By the time I got there, I found her ankle deep in the bay, dragging in a life preserver ring." He took the cassette out of the radio.

"Did she ever tell you anything else about what happened?" Sherry prodded. "How she got out when the other's didn't? Is it possible...?"

He looked on her with an incredible amount of pity. "Oh, child. They-" He shook his head. "She told me the others were below deck. They were anchored. Even the captain, along with her husband, your parents, and their friend. She'd gotten sea sick from being jostled by the waves, and was above deck. The way she described it I thought she was blown out into the water by the backdraft when she opened the door to the lower cabin. I'm sorry, there's no way..."

_Their friend? _This caught Gin's attention. _Does he mean...? _The time frame matched up.

"It's alright." Sherry seemed more emotionally distant now. "I've known they were dead for more years than I knew them now. I overreacted coming here. I'm sorry for bringing this all back up again."

This comment did not lessen the look of pity on the clerk's face in the slightest. "You had every right in wanting to know about your parent's accident." the clerk said in an attempt to comfort her.

She gave him a nod with the look of a person holding back tears. "Thank you." She left, not waiting for Gin. He should definitely go after her, but he had a question for the clerk before he went.

"The friend of the Miyano's, do you recall his name?"

"I'm not sure we were ever formally introduced." The man rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "I think it may have started with a Ji- sound. Jinsei, or Jinya maybe. This was more than a decade ago mind you. I only knew him for a summer."

"Sure," Gin waved it off as if it was unimportant. "I better go catch up to her."

That was enough confirmation for Gin to know who the Miyano's friend had been. He hadn't known the particulars of where or how his namesake had been killed, but he had known the timeframe and who was responsible.

The Miyano's death, his namesake's death, they had been no accident.

The Organization had launched an investigation into his death, of course, him being a top codenamed member. A fifteen-year-old Gin, not even a full member at the time, had not been involved, but he had learned what they concluded in his usual way all the same.

A traitor with the codename Cachaça had been responsible. For a reason they could not determine she had turned on the Organization by revealing the identity and location of Gin's namesake to a rival syndicate. Apparently, the Organization had performed a strike against them five years prior that Gin's namesake had headed, and they jumped on the opportunity to enact revenge. Though they had feared a trap and ended up killing Cachaça as well.

Gin had always thought the woman's codename was particularly lethal sounding. Like a blade slicing through the air. Though it also sounded dangerous because Cachaça should had been a man's codename as it was a spirit and not some fruity wine. He had learned plenty about the woman during that time; she was an extremely skilled assassin; she was half Japanese and half Brazilian, which probably accounted for her odd codename; she spoke very little and got along with different members than would be expected, though Gin never found out what the person who had said this meant. Yet despite his digging and snooping he never learned her motive in getting his namesake, and consequently herself, killed in such a reckless manner.

_Damn, what did the Miyano's research have to do with any of that? Was the timing a coincidence, him being on the island with the Miyano's when they came for him? Were the Miyano's targets themselves, or just collateral?_

Gin considered how this new information affected the answers they were already trying to find as he made his way up the hill after Sherry. He'd seen her head into the forest up toward the cabin while he was still in town, but had lost sight of her once on the twisting mountain trails.

If he was being truthful he lost sight of her because he had slowed his pace in trailing after her. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to delay catching up to her, added time to mull over things himself.

He heard the rustling of undergrowth down a ways on one of the diverging goat trails. Cautiously he followed the noise down the path. Getting closer a different set of sounds started. One sharp, followed by a showering low sound. Someone was digging.

The goat trail connected onto one of the more substantial paths. There he found the elder's great-granddaughter, Kimie Shimabukuro, shoveling dirt out of a hole. This was the woman Sherry suspected was behind the elder disguise.

She gasped seeing him, jerking with the surprise at having not noticed him until that point. She glanced quickly at a wooden sign laid across a few ferns and back up at him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect to see anyone today, the men are all out fishing." Her cheeks were burning a bright red, he guessed from the embarrassment of being startled.

"I didn't mean to startle you. I was on my way back to my cabin when I heard the noise." He was looking for a distraction more like, though he was not entirely willing to admit this outright to himself.

"No, it's fine, umm..." she fumbled conspicuously with the shovel. "Just putting up a danger sign... because of the drop-off, of the gorge." She was acting much more nervous than she had been at the shrine. People who were genuinely happy a majority of the time made the worst liars.

Digging a hole to put up a sign might have made sense if it was placed solidly in a bucket of concrete she planned to bury. This danger sign was not. Instead, the end of the sign was pointed, only meant to be stabbed into the earth. Her excuse for putting up the sign might have worked to explain her leaving for the forest to the people in town, but seeing her there the lie fell apart.

"You're burying the bones, aren't you?" He asked, and she only turned more fidgety. There was no way this woman had lived 120 years as a twenty-five-year-old. She may well be disguising as the elder, but it was probably only for the tradition that clerk had mentioned.

"Please don't tell anyone!" Her eyes pleaded. "I don't want it to happen again."

"I don't want to see any more grave robbers either," he said darkly.

"You'll keep it a secret? I'll know it was you if anyone disturbs it." This made him reconsider his judgement that she wasn't nearly clever enough to be eternally young.

"I'll keep an eye on it."

"Thank you." She beamed, starting up digging again.

Gin left her to it, heading back on his way to the cabin. He'd made enough of a detour, and had run out of excuses to delay any further.

...

Gin came up on the cabin and spotted the reddish brown back of Sherry's head over by the gorge. He was fairly certain she had wanted some space, having left the inn without a thought towards him. He had let her walk back on her own, and wasn't sure how to act now. He found himself walking towards her despite his uncertainty.

She was sitting on the backless bench at the edge of the overlook sight, facing the view. Her legs dangled off the edge of the drop-off.

"Don't you feel like you're going to fall, sitting like that?" Gin said, taking a seat, but keeping his legs on the grounded side of the bench. He angled his body sidewards, so as to still face her. She was sitting exactly as he had been on their first morning on the island. If she caught the underlying humor in his statement she didn't respond to it.

"Not particularly. I'm being cautious. Besides, only an idiot falls off a cliff they should have known was there." The subject of her words was not so different from her usual remarks, but her delivery made her thoughts seem elsewhere. Somewhere distant, and melancholy.

"I suppose this is a good place to think about life, at the edge of death."

She snickered at this, "Something like that." She paused, staring off across the gorge before asking. "And what if you're thinking about death?"

Gin did not have an answer for this. He pointedly avoided thinking about death as a whole. Instead of responding, Gin placed a hand on her shoulder in a way of comfort.

She turned to glance at him a moment at the new pressure on her shoulder but soon resumed fixing her eyes to the steep walls of the adjacent side. Her face, pensive on matters that saddened her, raised a hint of a smile at his gesture.

"It wasn't an accident, my parents' death." She said. Gin had known this, but he was surprised to see she had as well. He watched her forlorn profile fight off several emotions. It was as if she was a bucket of rainwater trying not to overflow in a downpour. "I feel like I've always known that somehow, just didn't want to say the words."

"And now that you have?" Gin asked.

"I want to know why." Her eyes were somewhat downcast, and Gin followed her line of sight to what she'd fixed her eyes on. There was a trickle of a stream in the bottom of the gorge; it was a chilling thought to see what something that seemed so small and weak could do to the landscape unchecked for such a long time.

"And what if that is unknowable?" Gin said. _What if holding onto what you couldn't know and couldn't change only hurt you? What if it had only hurt him?_

"I don't suppose you have an answer to your own question."

"No, I don't suppose I do." He ran the hand he had resting on her shoulder along the length of her arm, down to cup over her hand where it was gripping the edge of the bench seat. He then slid his hand gingerly over her fingers, soon pulling back up, interlacing their fingers together.

He had much empathy for her situation, understanding her feelings as they mirrored his own regarding the death of his predecessor quite closely. He had known it was a traitor to the Organization that had caused the death of his namesake. He felt it even before he learned of Cachaça.

"We'll just have to find out what happened here all those years ago," Sherry said, her resolve pulling her out of her sad trance somewhat. "We're already here, already close to the answers. What were my parents doing here for so long if the festival is so obviously a sham? There has to be a reason."

"The clerk said they were interested in the lure of the island." Gin offered.

"They came back yearly, until that last year when he implied they knew they weren't coming back." He recognized the tone she got when she was thinking out loud. They had become much more comfortable doing that sort of thing around each other in the past weeks. "Probably not because they knew they were going to be murdered, though we can't rule that out. Maybe they were close to finishing whatever they needed the island for, maybe even close to completing Silver Bullet."

"It would be ideal if they worked out that project in the journal. Though not too ideal since we still haven't made any headway on decoding the damned thing." Gin muttered.

Sherry pulled out the leather journal at its mention, continuing to think aloud. "Individually the content of each page can be made to make sense within itself, but the information still seems pointless and unconnected overall. For four pages in a row there is a pattern to how they are organized. There's always a central hub on each page right, and the surrounding passages work as spokes. It's the picture of the previous Gin smoking on the first of the relevant pages, then the rip current diagram, followed by a cartoon of a palm tree which is not native to this area, and the last one is a sandwich." She turned each page as she described them giving him a good view. Though he had spent just as much time as she had staring at them in the past month and a half.

"You know you're turning the pages backwards." He mused dryly. "It should have been first the sandwich, then the tropical tree, then the-"

She waved this off. "It reads like a western book, left to right."

"So backwards." He'd expected her to glare at him, but something seemed to click in her head. He watched her eyes as she made a sudden realization.

"What if they were working the problem backwards?" She flipped back to the picture of his namesake. The scientific equations that explained how cigarette smoke would break down in the lungs ran along the curling trail of smoke. He remembered what she'd said the Latin at the end of the passages had meant. _Death was certain, its hour uncertain, unless... _It was a joke about shortening your life by smoking. Sherry ran her finger along it now.

"It has the opposite meaning than I thought," she mumbled. "They were looking for a cure against death, and so were looking at what natural processes they would need to reverse or trigger in the body. They were working backwards from the different ways to administer medicine. Smoking represents inhalation." She turned the page. "The rip current diagram would be intravenous. Administering the cure straight to the bloodstream by the veins." She thought to explain this to him, showing him the inside of her wrist and the faint blue veins there. "A blue undercurrent. Then he probably thought topical sounded like tropical which would explain the palm tree and his use of English on that page. So that covers absorbing the cure through skin. Lastly there is oral administration, the sandwich. They stop checking methods there, but that's probably what got them into this line of thinking to begin with, the legend of gaining immortality by eating mermaid meat."

Gin noticed she had cheered up considerably, giddily piecing all the parts together. Even eagerly showing and explaining each discovery to him in her excitement. He was glad. He enjoyed the passion she had for her work and watched her in a warm daze.

At the same time, a worry started in the back of his mind. If the Miyano's were as close to the answer of immortality as they seemed, then the odds of their deaths and consequential loss of research being merely collateral of another assassination were minimal. The possibility of someone killing them because they got too close to the solution was high. The events of the decade before were all tied together, and digging them up at the same time as they were drawing close to piecing together Silver Bullet seemed somehow dangerous.


	22. Isle Arc (6) Climax Ch

Chapter 22

The sun lite a patch of the overcast sky directly overhead. It cast a hazy light over town, that wasn't harsh enough to cast heavy shadows or cause glare on window glass. It had a particularly dream like quality; everything was too well illuminated to be without their corresponding shadows. It felt eerily unbalanced. Equivalent to the unnatural feeling of a starless night.

Gin and Sherry walked along their standard course through town. They had long since whittled down the time they spent in town to a mere walk around noon. Along this route they would pass a fence where wild daisies poked through and beyond it they could expect to see a woman watering and tending to the yard. Next they would come across the cafe where the same occupants sat in their places for lunch. The wafting aroma usually pulled them in to mingle with the locals for a time. Tourist season had passed months ago, and life on the island came to a steady and predictable pulse.

They had diligently worked to become a part of the well-established routine. Fitting into an already set pattern as if by design. It was rather monotonous.

Although perhaps it was because Gin was so familiar with the flow of life on the island that he noticed the feeling of something being off. He couldn't place it, but today everything in town seemed just out of step. Like someone had creased the pattern.

It irritated him to no end. Even more than tedious repetition had.

"Have you noticed anything strange." He whispered down to her. She was already pulled in close as she always was on these walks.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're looking for an excuse to stay longer. If you haven't found anything in all these months-"

"I'm not." He stated flattly. They planned to leave at the end of that week. Sherry had spent the last several months successfully retracing her parents' research, the four pages they decoded acting as a key. She'd told him she had done almost everything she could on the project while still on the island. In all that time Gin had made no further headway on finding what his predecessor was doing eleven years ago, or towards finding a current traitor.

She studied him to see if he was lying. "But you want to stay. You still think there is something to be learned here."

"I don't see why you can't continue the research here." Gin was only continuing this argument half-heartedly. His eyes scanned across the buildings scattered in a small town. He checked faces. Were they familiar? Were they where they were supposed to be at that time?

He was vaguely aware of her part of the argument that he was only keeping up in order for them to look like they were busy. "Do you know why scientists and doctors wear white? They didn't always. They used to wear black to hide the dirt or blood on their clothes and to be professional and serious. After they discovered germs that carry disease.." There was a face that didn't fit the pattern. He caught it out of the corner of his eye, but it passed behind a building before he could see it properly. It was almost familiar. Sherry had continued, unaware he had stopped listening at some point. " .. so I need a sterile environment -"

He made a motion in defeat to silence her. "I concede." He'd had to pull away from her to raise both hands in the action. Such a big gesture was uncharacteristic of him. Gin would only do something so theatric to fulfill a role. She would take his acting as affirmation of his serious intent of what he'd said before.

The feeling of eyes weighed heavily on him. They were being watched. How long had this been happening? Their routine and predictable set of actions now seemed profoundly unwise.

She pulled in close to him again, taking her hand in his and bringing her lips to his ear. "We're being watched aren't we?"

He nodded, and then leaned down to whisper back to her. He tilted his head to the side. Her hair always ended up brushing his face when they did this, but it had stopped bothering him some months ago. "We should take the long way back to check if we have a tail."

"I'll humor you." She said with an amused smile, not bothering to whisper this remark. The intimacy of speaking so close fit their cover well. But that smirk of hers was real.

Had they always delighted in this facade this much? He couldn't recall a time when there hadn't been an underlying strain of truth to these flirtations; a time when they didn't tease one another more personally than they would need to fool an outsider; smile more sincerely; linger just longer than they would need to keep up the cover of newly affianced. And they only feel more deeply into it the more comfortable they became with each other and better they knew one another.

They set off into the forest, his hand in hers. The feeling of being watched persisted, and by the second mile in Gin was certain something was terribly wrong. He was torn between confronting their stalkers or losing them. He had Sherry with him and it was his job above all else to make sure she and her research were safe.

The odd feeling in town made him suspect there was more than just them being watched now that was happening. It was like he could taste the ash of a coming disaster in the air. Something that had been building in the distance all this time that he couldn't quite see.

He would lose their tail first.

Both Gin and Sherry had grown very familiar with the forest trails by that point and it did not take much to confuse the people following them. They were soon safely back at the cabin. Gin paced over to the nightstand.

"Keep the earpiece in, and the gun on you." He checked it was properly loaded before handing it to her. "I'm going out to do a perimeter test. Hopefully this was nothing and we'll be set to leave by tomorrow."

"Liar," she said, sitting at the edge of the bed and flipping open a laptop. He was already at the door, but looked back at her. She glanced up. A slight grin tugged at the corners of her cheeks as she shook her head.

...

Gin closed the door behind him and she was alone in the cabin. The computer was open to a page of her notes. Her parents' research had worked to define a link between how human cells age and the nutrients the body draws in through the digestive system. They figured out how a substance a person ate could in theory affect their ability to age, following the lure about mermaid meat. In essence, they knew the how just not the what of the research into immortality.

Before Sherry had the opposite problem, knowing what could keep the cells of an organism young forever, just not how to administer that change to humans. In theory, putting the two together she would have the complete answer.

She lost track of time reading through the document when she heard a rustling sound outside the cabin. Making as little sound as possible she shut the laptop and flattened herself against the wall by the door. It was a spot that couldn't be seen peeking in through the windows. She held her gun at a low ready position.

Gin had switched to his fighting mid set while they were in town, and she knew him well enough to trust his instincts. She pulled in slow breaths through her nose, making little sound. The rustling traveled a circle around the house. She listened to the individual foot steps. Only one person was walking, though there may have been more stationary. The door knob jostled slightly a moment before a loud bang sounded against the door and the door swung open.

A single man stepped inside and she recognized his muddy hiking boots in an instant. He had his back to her still, but was empty handed. He was scanning the room for something.

She stepped in front of the door, snapping it closed behind her with her heel. He whipped toward her in surprise, hand falling to the level of his belt.

"Don't," She ordered, aim squarely centered on him.

He raised his hands up to either side of his face. "You weren't supposed to be here."

Sherry thought of the laptop she'd tucked into the second drawer of the night stand. "I'd have to say you were a surprise as well." She said loudly so her ear phone mic would pick it up and get Gin's attention. "If you're still looking for a festival arrow, I'm afraid we didn't win the raffle." She was trying to clue Gin in to who it was that was there.

"Damn, are the fortune hunters with them as well?" She heard Gin say in a hushed voice in her earpiece. "Does he have a gun? Who's in control of the situation? Sherry?"

"Are you really those scientists' daughter?" The man talked over what Gin had said somewhat.

"Yes, I am." She answered them both.

"You really just, shouldn't be here." The man reiterated. "And history repeats itself. This is all their fault, damn them."

...

After checking the perimeter Gin found the trail of the men stalking them before and followed it back to town. It was there that he spotted a familiar face. He saw enough of it to place it this time. One of the reporters that had left on that first night several months ago was back in town.

Was he one of the men following them just now? Gin shadowed him through town. The man eventually found his way to the outskirts, and strode confidently into the forest, not drawing attention to himself by shifting his gaze about. This was a risky strategy Gin knew because it made it easier for people to follow without his notice. Gin took advantage of the man's gamble, at the same time taking every precaution.

They came to a clearing near the base of the waterfall. There were other men there as well. The crashing sound roared over their conversation. Gin would have to get dangerously close to the tree line in order to hear them. He didn't spot any scouts in the trees and eventually edged his way to the trees closest to where the men stood.

He ducked behind the trunk of one, and sat back against it, remaining low to the ground. He could hear their voices carry over from there. He was close enough to the falls to be sprayed with a fine mist as well.

"Maybe if your team had actually managed to kill the man eleven years ago we wouldn't be here." One of the men sneered.

"That hit was confirmed." Another answered in kind. "They are not at fault here. I'd bet we're just here chasing ghosts anyways. This is a waste of time."

"Watch your tongue." The first warned.

"Why? He's not here."

"Has it not occurred to you that that Brazilian crow could have pointed us to the wrong man. She was one of them after all." Gin was almost certain he knew who they were now. They were talking about Cachaça, which made them the rival syndicate. They thought his predecessor was still alive? Why come to the island now?

"I'm sure that's what he wants to believe because he never got to kill that bastard himself." The second of the men scoffed. "He never let it go. After more than a decade, and he still hasn't. It's why we're here. He was just waiting to jump on-" The man kept on speaking, but a voice on his ear piece drew his attention away.

"Don't." Sherry shouted, there was a pause and the vague sound of another person's voice he couldn't make out before she spoke again. "I'd have to say you were a surprise as well. If you're still looking for a festival arrow, I'm afraid we didn't win the raffle."

Damn, are the fortune hunters with them as well? Gin kept his voice low, trying not to draw attention to himself. "Does he have a gun? Who's in control of the situation? Sherry?"

There was the murmur of the other man's voice in the background at the same time and then a pause. "Yes, I am."

"Does he still have it holstered?" Gin asked.

"What do you mean history repeating itself?" Sherry asked, not speaking to him.

He could hear the man's words this time, likely because he was shouting them out believing Gin to be in close proximity. "That Gin guy, he's here with the scientists again looking to make new immortals. Only this time I'm here to make sure he's actually dead. Come out here you coward!"

"Can you get away?" Gin said desperately into the speaker. "Shoot at him and get away, Sherry."

"Gin? I've never-" She was perhaps trying to answer them both at once. The man must have sensed hesitation in her because she was cut off with a thumping sound. It was followed by the sounds of a struggle; banging and knocking.

Gin jumped up from his listening place behind the tree trunk and dashed through the trees, stealth be damned. This, of course, caught the attention of the men he had been spying on who pulled out their guns and made chase. The trees would make it difficult for them to aim around, but they fired at him anyways.

Gin held his right hand to his ear, his left had his gun at the ready. He could hear grunts and gasps from both parties on the earpiece. A shot was fired. More struggling. Another shot.

"Sherry? Sherry?" Gin yelled into the speaker. He was answered with only silence. He sprinted through the undergrowth, and a bullet cut through the bark of a nearby tree. Desperation and helplessness clawed at him in that moment of silence.

"Gin, isn't it." It was the man's voice over Sherry's speaker, breathing hard. "Tell the rest of the crows that a disadvantage to not taking hostages is it makes your policy on the matter clear. You announced the futility of keeping any of your members alive to negotiate over long ago."

The sound of the feed cutting out came from the other line. The man likely crushed the ear piece. Damn, Damn, Damn.

Gin heard the zing of a bullet that passed closeby his ear. He was cutting a path through a more dense area of the wood in order to get to the trail that led to the cabin without having to go around. This slowed his progress however and kept him in range of his pursuers. He ducked behind a tree for a moment and turned to fire at the men chasing him.

He got one, but not the other. Two rounds fired, thirteen left. The others had taken their own cover and Gin began to run again. Finally, he reached the open trail.

It turned out Gin wasn't the only one that knew these paths well. Three men had run around to meet him there. Among them was one of the men whom he had heard arguing before.

They fired at him and he took cover in the treeline, but he could hear the other group who had stayed on him approaching fast. He would soon be completely walled in.

"Who are you crow?" They had stopped firing without a target to aim at. "Are you with Gin?" The voice was closer now.

He didn't answer. He glanced side to side, trying to think of a plan. Just above him there was a branch. It was just low enough to pull himself onto it. Quickly he scaled the tree, keeping on the side not visible to the men on the trail. From that vantage he could see where the men who had been following through the underbrush closed in on him.

"You get him?" one from that group asked the others.

"Closing in on him now," the one who had tried to ask who he was shouted back to the others. A half circle of men approached the tree's base. Gin took the opportunity of having so many men close together and chucked a grenade down at the men.

The problem now was that he was tree'd and just revealed his position to the others. He fired six shots down at the other close ones before they returned fire and he was forced to retreat behind the trunk again.

By his count he had three men still actively pursuing him. That made at very least four men for seven bullets. He would need to get out of the tree through. He scaled down as far as he dare before he jumped onto the ground. He rolled over his shoulder and onto his feet to lessen the blow, but still pain shot up his legs. They fired at him and one of the bullets managed to tear into the flesh of his arm. He was running the second he was on the ground. His pursuers soon stopped firing to make chase again.

"Forget him!" The commander, injured from the grenade, called them off. Gin kept running and had soon left their arguments of protest far behind.

...

It had been years since Gin had found himself in such a sorry state after a fight. This was mostly because he made a point to avoid foolish exchanges of poor timing and insufficient information. Careful calculation and patience in those matters were however attributes he'd had to acquire with time and experience. He hadn't entirely come into them the last time he was wounded this badly.

He was still training under his mentor at the time and the fight had been among boys who were similarly learning their craft. They were older, but Gin had always been tall for his age. He hadn't intended to actually get into a fight at all. Only warn them off. This would have worked better if his gun had been in the shoulder holster where he always kept it.

It had not.

What went down was a much more physical exchange than he had been anticipating. There were two of them, and they both hated him. They were among those the Organization trained for hired muscle and would likely never advance very far through the ranks. This was why they despised him.

On that day Gin had just started taking a non-lethal dose of a common poison to build up his resistance to it. The first day taking a new poison was always the worst and it made him particularly short tempered. He had been in desperate need to shoot something and despite his tutor warning him against too much physical exertion the first day taking a poison he had gone to the firing range. It was really a bad habit he had never outgrown. He should have let his body focus on fighting against the poison, but he always ended up wanting a distraction and the familiarity of training.

Gin had not reached the firing range before he was cut off by the two older boys. "Well if it isn't the coddled brat." One of them shut the door just in front of him when Gin had only ignored them and moved to step around the two. "Don't you think you spend enough time in the firing range. If you haven't gotten any better by now there's no point in wasting the bullets."

The other boy had stepped up behind him and offered a laugh. "Do you think he's ever once thought 'bout the cost of anythin'? If you told me his hair was spun of white gold I'd have half a mind to believe ya. If my parents were so highly ranked do you think I'd be handed training like that too?"

"What good would a personal mentor do you?" The first boy cut in. "You don't listen as it is." He turned his attention back to Gin, but still addressed the other boy. "You do have a point though, don't you? It is a hypocritical system we have here. Oh the Organization can criticize society for hoarding the wealth and power among those who already possess it, passing it from one generation to the next with no change. And yet. How are they any different? Giving every advantage to those privileged enough to be born to it."

"Those are traitorous words." Gin looked up, murder in his eyes.

"Easy for you to defend a system that favors yourself, you coddled brat." The older boy had perhaps two inches on Gin, and used whatever height difference there was to loom over Gin.

"Your vendetta isn't against me." Gin said unimpressed. "You're speaking against the Organization."

"Tch, so self-righteous. You think you're so superior."

"Do I need to prove my aim?" Gin threatened, reaching for his gun. It wasn't there. A moment of sheer panic struck him. One of them caught him by surprise, slamming him back against the steel door. Gin had the instinct to let his shoulders take the bulk of the blow.

The fight broke out immediately following. The first boy was still close from throwing him back into the door and Gin flipped their positions swinging him so his head bluntly smacked into the hard metal of the door. By the time he had done this the second had a gun out and pressed into his shoulder. He knocked it from his grasp and found a more favorable position in a maneuver his mentor had taught him.

Although the other boys were stronger their fighting was unrefined and less coordinated than Gin. The brute strength of their blows made the match more even however, and it would be no sooner than Gin had gained an edge over the one before the other was back to having a decent opening at him.

It seemed to drag on for ages, and he could feel his stamina running short. The first of them had managed a solid strike against his shin early in the fight that made it hard for him to stand on it. He pushed on through the pain, but the longer the fight stretched on for the more difficult each maneuver became. He could feel the poison eating at him now as well.

Finally he'd gained a grip on one of them and knocked him off balance bringing him hard against the floor. They wrestled, both dishing out heavy punches. He'd ended up pinned in the last exchange. His brain rattled in his skull as his opponent landed several solid punches to his head.

He noticed the boy was always off-balance just after landing a blow. He pulled his head just out of the way and blocked off the boy's predictable next punch to the side. The follow through left the boy's knuckles to scrape across the concrete. He used the boy's own momentum to leverage their positions, flipping on top. In desperation to end the fight before he ran out of energy, Gin grabbed the older boy by the collar and slammed his head back into the concrete.

The other was on him fast, taking the easy kick to his chest that sent him reeling off of the now unconscious boy.

He took another cheap shot at Gin's jaw while he was still crouched over trying to catch his breath. His head was throbbing, but he gained his feet. He dodged several of the boy's next strikes. But, it was clear the other boy still had much more stamina left than Gin. If he carried on like that he would almost certainly lose. He needed to end the fight quickly.

His opponent broke his pattern to land another blow to the gut. Gin staggered back. He was closing in on the extent of his endurance. His back heel found an object that nearly threw him off balance. It was the gun he'd knocked from the second boy at the beginning of the fight.

It would give the other boy too much of an opening were he to pick it up. Gin kicked the Glock toward his opponent's ankles. It skid across the concrete as Gin gathered his remaining strength, lunging forward. The heavy gun striking him in the ankle weakened his stance. Gin took the opportunity to bring him down, maneuvering the other boy into a pressure lock.

"The Organization does not take kindly to those who speak against it."

"Go die." The older boy spat. Gin pulled him further into the pressure lock. "You don't have the authority to call me a traitor."

"I guess not, but it would seem I do have the power to break your arm. I would suggest you rethink your stance on loyalty in future." Gin released him and he staggered away a few feet.

"Tch." The boy shot him a hateful look but did not aggravate the argument further. He went to check on his friend. Gin kept up a strong posture as he left, not showing the leg it was almost too painful to stand on. He made it passed the stairwell door and collapsed against the wall.

His mind was swimming and his whole body pulsed with pain. He clenched his jaw hard and limped up the stairs. He was vaguely aware of where he was headed. Shame should have kept him away, at least until he could stand properly on his own. Even still, he came there, injuries untended, and exhaustion weighing down his every move. He had sought out his tutor in that state of delirium.

He needed- He couldn't think straight. He opened the door to a study and snapped it shut behind him with his body weight.

"Pick a fight?" His tutor eyed his slight limp and the way he clutched his stomach but continued to sift through papers. "Lose a fight?"

Gin just glared at him. By this time he had calculated at what point he had lost his gun. He knew he had it just before talking with his tutor as he headed to the firing range. Just before he got in the fight. The man had to have slipped it out of his jacket at that time without his noticing.

"I will need it back." He kept his voice more even than he felt.

"Will you? You seem to have survived. Though I'm guessing you won't be quite so overconfident for a week or two."

"I didn't lose, even unarmed."

"Or perhaps not, though I didn't really expect this exercise to manage that." He set his papers down.

"What was the point of leaving me unarmed like that then?"

"Why didn't you notice when you no longer had your gun?" He asked in that way he only did when he thought Gin wasn't asking the 'right' question.

"Because you picked my pocket. Presumably, so you could teach me a lesson about assuming the relative strength of my opponents. Which didn't take."

"No. Whatever lesson of patience and precaution you take from this is your own doing. My intention was to prove to you that I could." Gin's tutor pulled out the stolen Beretta from inside his jacket. "And it is the reason why I could disarm you that is important in this case."

He stood and walked around the desk toward Gin. "I could pick your pocket because you were expecting my presence. It's why crowds are such ideal places; people expect to bump into each other. And why women's flirtations are equally dangerous. If you're comfortable with anyone touching you, you're at risk of them disarming you."

He was just in front of Gin now, and without even trying he had the intimidating presence that boy had tried for before their fight. He felt in that moment that his tutor could see every bruise and pain Gin was trying desperately to hide from him.

"Your gun," he shoved the Beretta into Gin's chest, the hard metal hitting his tender bruises. "Is your life. If you're not responsible enough to carry it, you're not responsible enough to use it."

Gin hastily tucked his gun into its holster, still trying not to show how every movement felt like being jabbed with needles.

"Now get off that leg, kid. Your pride isn't worth making the injury worse." He sat back behind the desk, picking up the papers again. "Bloody idiot." This was exactly what Gin had been trying not to let his mentor see, and yet. Oddly, he was glad that he had.


	23. Isle Arc (7) Climax Ch

Chapter 23

He hadn't come back to this island intending to kill the lady scientist. That had never been his plan. But it hadn't been his intention for his team to kill her parents a decade before either. Like them, she had simply been in the way.

She had asked what he meant by history repeating itself. He daresay she found out.

He stood at the edge of the cliff just twenty feet from the cabin's door. The wind pushing up the cliff face painted his clothes to the front of his body. He'd seen her jump, and sure enough, her footprints smeared a one way trip to the gorge. His heavy hiking boots pressed into the thick mud where the last of those prints were set.

Interesting that the woman who was so hesitant to fire would fling herself so willingly off the edge. He backed away from the cliff at the uneasy feeling of it all.

He'd sensed she wasn't responding to his comment but someone else's the moment before he lunged at her. He was proven right when he'd pulled an earphone from her in the struggle. She'd been better at wrestling for the gun than he'd expected. He'd managed to rip the gun from her in the end, but she'd wriggled away and had left him on the cabin floor.

All that only to jump off the nearby cliff. She must have had the research he'd come to the cabin to find. _Why else jump?_

He'd just made it to the open door frame when he watched her figure disappear over the drop. The earbud in his hand at the time was shouting a name. Sherry.

The voice rang with the ache of someone who was totally powerless to the situation. He remembered that same feeling, and it brought a fire to his chest. From sixteen years prior. More than half a dozen names. And all the shouting in the world couldn't change the fate of those he'd lost that day. Then five years later to find out from one of the crow's own that their deaths had not been part of the mission as planned but a lone operatives judgment call.

"Tell the rest of the crows that a disadvantage to not taking hostages is it makes your policy on the matter clear. You announced the futility of keeping any of your members alive to negotiate over long ago." He nearly spat out the words before smashing the earbud into the stone at his feet.

He thought he'd taken care of this problem eleven years before, or at least his team had. Although they had not found a shred of the research the crows were doing at the time which he found suspicious. It was ten years before news of the immortality arrows and the mermaid bones found in the fire would bring them back to this island. Hoping that perhaps they were the subject of the crows research into immortality they hadn't been able to determine before. All this time later only to hear Gin had survived. The other half of his unit had gone undercover as reporters where they overheard a man named Gin discussing the bones from the storehouse fire the night of the arrow festival.

Gin alive and back on the Isle of Mermaids. It wouldn't be an explosion out on the bay this time; a plan executed before he'd even arrived at the island. No. This time, that bastard would come to him.

...

Sherry clung to the face of the cliff. She was trying, in what felt like a rather vain attempt, to keep her breathing quiet. The rush of wind at her back would probably cover any noise she made sufficiently but the terror of the situation made it feel like every gasp was one closer to death. She didn't expect the man she'd scuffled with would think she survived the jump, but all it would take was for him to look directly down the cliff side.

The pain also made her want to gasp out. Long scrapes had racked up her forearms and the inside of her calves and they stung. She knew catching herself on the ledges of the cliff face wasn't going to be easy or pleasant, but she hadn't seen another option.

While sitting on the bench at the cliff's edge in the past months she had spent a great deal of time studying the walls of the gorge. Saplings and full-fledged trees were common to see growing out of the rock.

Trees on cliffs typically grow in the joints, or nearly vertical cracks where the rock is weak, and sand and seeds might fall in. The larger the tree is the more the strong roots in that joint push the now widening crevasse apart. The surrounding joints, or potential crack patterns where the rock is weakest, often break off chunks of the cliff rock creating ledges.

It was those ledges that she knew she could use to catch herself and then climb back up later. She found that in practice slipping off the edge of a cliff was quite different from theory. Falling happened so much faster than she could have anticipated. One moment she was sliding over the top edge and the next she was several yards down, her feet compacting the loose soil in the cracks she'd kicked into to support her weight. The moment of falling seemed not to have existed at all it was so brief. Still, she had managed to flip toward the cliff face and gather a hold beneath her.

Her whole body was pressed flat to the rock. Looking up she could see the grassy top edge of the gorge. It was a little less than twice her height above her. There were fewer holds above her than she had been expecting, but the soil was probably too loose where she had skid down to make it up that way anyways. She ended up climbing more diagonal then up, making her progress slow. But it was progress all the same.

...

Gin huffed up the mountain trails toward the cabin. His skin was still damp with the moisture of the falls, but now it was sticky in several places where dirt and moss clung to the blood running from numerous minor injuries. He pushed off thoughts of pain.

The man from the rival syndicate had implied that he'd killed Sherry in that exchange. There had been two shots fired to back his claim as well.

Gin had thought she was dead once before, and she had proven him wrong. She was surprisingly resilient that one. He found himself smiling at the thought despite the pressing alarm he felt for her safety. He would need to confirm it with his own eyes before he believed anything. Especially now that she was his charge.

He quieted his steps as he came into the clearing with the cabin. He had his gun at a low ready and crept up to the side of the cabin keeping out of view of the windows. The sheer white drapes danced in the breeze from the open window, but otherwise there was no movement from within. He could see the door had been left ajar as well.

No body, no blood, but definite signs of a struggle. Gin slipped in through the window.

A cool cross breeze swept over the vacant interior, indifferent to the overturned furniture and shattered tableware. He scanned the room; one bullet hole in the ceiling, and one ran through the corner of a dresser. He crouched down next to the dresser, his right hand holding onto the top edge so he could line up his sight with the trajectory of the bullet. It had lodged into a bedpost. Still with no corresponding blood splatter.

A passing smirk found its way to his face again.

But this thought was quickly exchanged for one of the open door and the entry rug that had a corner flipped up. Their fight likely had continued elsewhere. The feeling of urgency returned, and he was about to stand when he felt hard metal against his back. A gun.

"You're a crow, aren't you?" The man he'd heard over the earpiece before demanded. "Why hasn't he come?"

"He's dead." Gin answered, glancing down at his shoulder. His focus was just past his own black garbed arm, which ran slick with blood where a scattering of bark shrapnel had torn into his flesh. _How had he gotten inside without notice?_ Gin wondered this somewhere in the back of his mind while discreetly checking the stance of the rival syndicate member. "The man you knew as Gin died eleven years ago. But I think you already knew that."

Before the man could articulate a response Gin was well into a maneuver he had perfected years ago in which he diverted the aim of a gun pressed at his back, and then knocked it from his opponent's grasp. He'd noticed before in looking down at the man's heavy boots that his weight was supported more on one leg than the other. Gin used this information to take out the man's balance and drop him to the floor.

The advantage had been flipped in an instant, with Gin now having his Beretta trained on the man on the floor. Gin already had his gun out before the exchange. The man must have assumed he was right handed and unarmed when he was supporting himself on the dresser before. A costly mistake for him.

"The girl that was here, Sherry, where is she?" Gin asked.

The man barked out a toothy laugh. "Dead, I'm afraid. Just like everyone else. She took a dive off that cliff to protect your organization's research. Just like her parents it would seem."

Gin narrowed his eyes at him but the man continued, nearly raving now. "It's no wonder neither syndicate has found the answer in all this time if we keep destroying research and killing scientists." He propped himself up on his elbows behind him, apparently losing preservation for his own mortality somewhat. "It would seem there's a lot of death involved in the business of looking for a cure against it."

Gin could not exactly disagree with this statement as a mercenary in an organization looking after the salve for immortality. But the growing hysterics of the man were a cause for concern. He was on the brink of snapping, and it made his actions wild and unpredictable. Gin kept his aim steadily on the man, anticipating an attack.

...

He was going to die. He stared down the barrel of a black gun, and at the eyes of ice behind the trigger. It was all he could focus on. He tried shifting his gaze to find an object he could use to gain some advantage but the gun kept at the center of his attention. Killing him was nothing to this man, and there was no way this crow would let him out of this situation.

What an idiot he'd been, putting everyone at risk. He had brought his unit back here, and for what? Nothing it would turn out. To gain nothing and lose everything. They'd stolen the bones, and had gotten away with an arrow, only to-

The arrow. He still had it in his pocket. Propped up on his elbows he could reach into his pocket without drawing too much attention. He shifted awkwardly, and his mouth scrunched in a corner in concentration.

He heard the ear shattering bang of the gun firing just above him, and his plan died before it had fully formed.

"Stop moving." The crow had fired a warning shot into the floor by his head. His ears rang and pounded with the rapid pulse of his heart. "What were you doing back on the island during the festival? Why were you looking to get your hands on the festival arrows?"

"Why do you think? It's the same reason the crows are interested in the festival isn't it?" He was trying to gauge if his suspicion about the crow's investigation into the immortality arrows had been correct, but the man's expression revealed nothing.

He had found a grip on the arrow in his pocket without really thinking about it. They were just close enough... He lunged up with the point of the arrowhead. But the crow was faster. The heavy weapon in the man's hand cracked across his temple, and everything went black.

...

Gin dragged the unconscious man into the corner of the room to slump against the wall, and dialed the boss. Normal procedure was to set up a time to conference via text, but the situation was more urgent than normal. There was a group with intel on some of their most classified secrets, one that was particularly hostile as well.

"Gin?" The voice on the other end was hushed like that person was whispering. The background clamored with noise.

"Yes," he confirmed. "We've stumbled upon a group here who knows a significant amount about the Organization and what we're after. I'm led to believe it is the same group who orchestrated the hit against us on this island a decade ago."

"I thought they were still chasing that stone..." That person mused before the background noise quieted with a soft click. "You'll need to cut it short and get off the island. It would be better to avoid another bloodbath with them if at all possible. We haven't made a strike against them in sixteen years and I'm not sure how our numbers compare today. Vermouth was there for that operation and should be able to fill you in on it. I'll have her debrief you when you both return and we can reassess the situation."

...

Sherry was nearly to the cement base of the bench at the cliff's edge when she heard a nearby gunshot. Her fatigued body surged with energy. With shaking hands and straining muscles, she finally made it back over the edge. Ignoring the illogical nature of the action, and with the burst of adrenaline quickly failing her, she pulled herself to her feet and made it to the cabin on wobbly legs.

She folded in the doorway, resting her forearms on her thighs when she saw Gin standing inside. His coat was stained darker in several places and red ran down onto his hands from under his coat sleeves.

He snapped his phone closed. _Was he holding it a second ago? _

"Sherry." He darted toward her. Exhaustion caught up with her all at once. Her head was impossibly light and heavy at the same time. Her focus was slipping. _Was she on the floor? _She suddenly had more support and limped to the bed. She was so tired. Swimming in and out of consciousness she was vaguely aware of what Gin was saying. "...injured...said you'd jumped off a cliff... packing...Can't stay... leaving." He was shuffling about the room, probably packing.

If they were leaving today he needed to know where she'd tucked the research.

"The laptop, in the second drawer." She managed to mumble before passing out on the bed, exhaustion pulling her briefly down into unconsciousness.

...

They were on the next ferry off the island. Gin said that there were other men on the island from a rival syndicate, but they didn't see them when they passed through town on their way off the island. She was grateful for that.

She was leaning over the ferry's guardrail, resting her elbows on it and facing the wind. They'd cleaned and dressed their wounds in the ferry bathroom before the ship even departed. She held her bandaged forearms, although they didn't hurt that badly now.

"What did you forget and need to go back for?" Sherry asked.

Gin pulled a festival arrow from an inner jacket pocket. "Did you still want to examine one of these?"

She laughed. "You delayed our departure time for that? Are you still looking to prove you were right about the festival all along? I think you already won that one." She took it from him. "Where did you get this anyways?"

"The man who came after you." Gin said rather darkly, though Sherry didn't notice. She was busy unwinding the white hair that had been used to fasten the arrowhead to the shaft. She recalled seeing the unconscious man in the corner of the cabin. After she had gotten her strength back she'd been compelled to check his pulse. Gin had actually left him breathing, though the bump swelling on his forehead did not look pleasant.

Sherry held the thin strand up to the light. "Horsehair." She lowered her arms. "It's not dyed, so it is naturally white, but it changes shade three-fourths of the way down, in an almost straight line. Undyed human hair does not change color in the middle like that. A strand of human hair normally stays the same color along the length. Animal hair however does change randomly and sharply. I guess we knew it wasn't going to be anything special though."

"The other syndicate thought the arrows were actually significant, so I wanted to be sure."

"Strange." She discarded the arrow. It was basically worthless regardless of whatever they thought; it was nothing but the superstition of a small fishing village that had been blown out of proportion.

Sherry tucked her hands into her pockets, only to find another small object there. It was the wooden marker used in the festival. She'd spent a good deal of time squeezing it into the palm of her hand in the past months. She faced the retreating view of the island before her and felt the salty spray of the sea mist against her face one last time before dropping the wooden marker into the ocean.


	24. Isle Arc (8)

Chapter 24

They arrived back in Tokyo late at night. They had spent the day traveling together and despite the heavier events on the island, the mood remained rather light. There was no need to keep up a romantically involved cover, but the tension between them only grow more intense as the day progressed. It was lingering glances and intentional brushes that built and built until they reached Tokyo.

Gin came back from putting his luggage in the back bedroom of his apartment and found Sherry had brought her suitcase in and lined it up by the boxes of her belongings against the wall in the main room.

"You know, my stuff has been here for months. Which means your neighbors saw a young woman receive moving boxes at your door and never saw that stuff leave again. Couple that with a trip we seemed to take together-" she trailed off. She had hung up her coat in the closet and now stood in the living room in a formfitting and bare-sleeved shirt that would only be comfortable inside that time of year.

There was an odd sort of heat in the air from being alone with her in his own apartment. There had been a similar feeling when they had been staying together on the island, though it hadn't been quite so intense as this. It was strange to see a woman so comfortable in his living room. Of course, Vermouth had been in his apartment before, but she frequented his wine cabinet more often than a formal sitting area.

"If I stay here much longer, people will think we're lovers." She had turned away from him to stand at the window, her voice was every bit the smile he imagined her face had been.

"And who would believe that?" He stepped up behind her, lingering just centimeters from touching. He let his breath sweep past her exposed neck, delighting in watching the shiver run up her spine.

"You're right, it would never work." She turned and brushed past him, the side of her shoulder only just touching his on her way back into the room. "Our biggest problem of course, would be that I'm in love with the traditional elements of romance, and you would never intentionally make such cliched gestures in order to seduce me."

He watched her as she made her way around the sitting room, as if considering each spot she could sit. After making her round she ended up on the side by the window again, and leaned back against the arm of the couch.

"Despite what you say, you are not the type of girl to fall into a man's embrace because he tossed flower petals on the ground and lite a few candles." Gin said. He was somewhat annoyed by where she had chosen to sit. If he wanted to remain facing her in their conversation he would have to stay standing.

"You are both very right, and very wrong. A man should not expect the candle light to do the work of seducing a woman, that's his job. What the candle light does is set the scene. You see, when a room is cast in the yellow glow of flame the atmosphere of it has changed. Everything is softer, warmer than before. Something about the firelight dances across your skin and caresses the body's natural curves. In essence, it is both beautiful and sensual."

Their own surroundings were cooler than the scene of golden light she had described. The pale glow of the moon shone in through the window and outlined her smooth skin in silver light. She might have looked the picture of a fine marble statue, polished white and timeless, had the harsh cut of stone not seemed so unfitting. Her soft skin didn't merely catch the pools of light, it radiated it.

"You believe you must be enticed by beauty before you are engulfed in the throes of passion then?" He asked, his voice edging on mocking her.

"Well, it can't hurt. Besides, you're no different. Are you not first enticed by the arch of a woman's back, the strong line of her collarbones, the smooth curves of her body?" His gaze was drawn to her as she spoke, her words a clear invitation. The anticipation built in the air between them, turning erotic. This was a favorite trick of hers.

"Are you saying your attraction to the idea of traditional romance is as innate as physical attraction?" Gin said. He edged closer to her, growing impatient at the distance they had left between one another.

"Hmm," She seemed to consider this for a second. "What if instead we posed the question as this: Do the cliches of romance persist because candlelight and red rose petals are inherently romantic, or is it so that men have a go-to guide for gestures that will actually please women?"

"It seems to me that, in your naive state, you already believe both." Gin was close enough now to notice her pupils had dilated. The wide black circles in her eyes spoke of desire almost as much as the expression they were formed in.

This elicited a deep pull from within him, a yearning to be as close as two people can be. He placed a hand on the back of the couch, very nearly closing the remaining distance between them. She held her ground, letting his forearm brush her bare shoulder. She'd never been one to yield when challenged, and he'd always found her confidence and poise incredibly attractive. It was a part of what had first peaked his interest in her. Even back to their first meeting when she'd stood boldly against that brute that had challenged her authority.

She leaned forward, nuzzling the side of her face against his. He reached his free hand up in order to cup the other side of her face. His need to kiss her was growing more urgent, and not rushing into it was proving increasingly difficult. His hand was nearly at her face, and he knew it would not be long after that he would kiss her.

He stopped just short as she began to continue whatever conversation they had been having. "I do, believe both." Her breath was shallow and hot on his ear, unmistakably seductive. "Which means that _first_," she pulled her head back. "You'll just have to indulge my romantic fancy."

Her face was far enough away again that he could focus on it. He soon found a smirk, his smirk, that she had learned to imitate a short time after they met, taunting him without mercy.

"Will I?" He said before moving the hand he had left hovering in the air to her chin and kissing her.

Her lips were only taut for a moment, and she soon relaxed into the kiss. Her shoulders shook a few times in laughter before she reached up a hand to his chest.

He broke off the kiss and greeted her with a grin of his own.

"No," she said short of breath. This left him confused and slightly wounded for a moment. She had definitely been leading him on and had kissed back just now. _What did she mean 'no'?_

"I don't suppose you will." She finished saying before leaning forward again into another kiss. This one was deeper and longer. Her hands lingered on his chest a while, running along the fabric of his coat as they kissed. They wandered up around his shoulders and collar for a few breaths then returned to the tight space between them.

One of her hands found its way to the inside of his coat and spread flat to his chest, only a thin cotton layer between them still.

_Danger! _

_He was in danger._ The sudden invasion of his coat triggered a deeply ingrained reflex. One he had been pushing off since they first started touching more on the Isle of Mermaids, but now it forced its way back, screaming a warning. He was there, at the outbreak of a fight, unarmed.

Muscle memory had him defending against an attack and he almost did not have the time to soften his reaction. In an instant he had blocked her arm away and gained a few feet of distance. His heart rate had spiked, and his body was rushing with adrenaline. Where she had slipped her hand in was too close to where he kept his gun holstered.

She could not have triggered a stronger reaction without reaching into his open chest and threatening to pull out his beating heart. That was his training; his Beretta was his life.

The eyes of an equally startled Sherry stared up at him from where the force of his block had pushed her back over the couch's arm onto the seat.

"Are you alright?" Gin asked gaining his breath.

"Yes," she said clearly shaken. She looked like she was trying to work out what had just happened still.

He stood in hesitation, the several feet he had gained still between them. He wanted to come to her aid, and in the same thought did not want to startle her further. "You're sure you're okay." He asked again.

"Gin, what's going on? What just happened?" She looked about the room as if to find the cause of his distress and his abrupt switch to his fighting mentality. _She wouldn't find the catalyst out there_. Gin grabbed her coat from the closet, annoyed with himself.

Sherry rolled off the couch onto her feet.

"The Organization secured a new location for you while we were gone. It's closer to the Tokyo labs than the last. That person still thinks it would be unwise for you to show your face too much around town."

She was scowling at him for avoiding her questions but responded to the new topic all the same. "After all these months? I wonder if the both of you aren't inflicted with the same strain of paranoia." She snatched the jacket from him, and briskly jerked her arms into the sleeves. That _paranoia_ was probably what she had decided to attribute his behavior just now to and would explain her snippy words. It was easier to let her be annoyed with him now than offer a real explanation.

He grabbed her main suitcase and opened the front door.

It wasn't nearly so late in the day as it felt. The mid-winter season stole many hours of daylight, making it dark more often than not. Although that was probably better for the Organization's purposes. The darkness would serve as a decent cover to move Sherry into her new location.


	25. Final Arc (Part 1)

Author's note: Hey, sorry it has been a while. This is probably the longest break in between chapters I've allowed so far, although breaks between arcs are usually a little longer. This is the start of the final arc in this story, which will be eight chapters like the others. I plan on starting a consistent schedule of posting a chapter every two weeks on Fridays until completion of this story.

At the end of this chapter I've added a summary of each of the previous arcs if you were looking for a refresher on what's happened in this story so far.

* * *

Chapter 25

A knock at the door made her nerves spring, despite the fact that she'd been waiting for it. Sherry rose from the edge of the twin mattress that slumped across the middle of the floor, at a slight diagonal and off center.

It would be Gin at the door and she took the few seconds allotted to answer to try and recall the sentence she'd settled on the previous night; something that would lead into talking about what had happened. Just when she felt like she had the edges of it the door eased open and her carefully devised segue fumbled out of reach.

"Good, you're up," he said, entering the bare single bedroom apartment. "If you're dressed we can go." His voice was rather unchanged, content to ignore the events of the previous evening.

"Yeah," she palmed an elbow and glanced down at the open leather case pushed up against the mattress. "I'm all set."

She remembered glaring at Gin the night before as he'd pulled that suitcase from where she had tucked it by her other belongings in his apartment and to the door. She had gone through the effort to lug the bulky thing inside not a quarter hour prior to that. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the incident through the night, trying to make sense of it all. Only to end up annoyed with herself that she hadn't stopped him, or been more adamant in finding out what had happened. It wasn't that she hadn't tried.

She'd chased right after him, her bare feet padding across the entry tile. The chill of the night had turned the temperature of the tiles to ice that nipped at the balls of her feet. She'd managed to stop him before he stepped through the door, running her hands around his chest from behind.

"This can wait." she'd said. She felt in that moment that she wasn't going to let him refuse to explain what was going on. But his posture was rigid, and the muscles in his shoulders were tense. It stopped her. He was so uncomfortable and distant that she didn't want to press it further anymore. And so she hadn't and had spent the night alone in her new apartment.

She looked up from the suitcase, her determination from the previous evening returning.

"But, before we go I think we need to acknowledge that we..." Unconsciously, her hand rose up to her lips and drew across them, as if feeling the kiss that had been left there. Her words had stopped with the motion and she looked to him for a cue on how to proceed.

He was waiting for her to continue.

"It was... Was it, a mistake?"

His eyebrows rose at this, and his face regained a part of the expression he'd had just before kissing her. "Unlikely."

"I mean with the rush of yesterday. Everything was happening all at once and it made us jump into it. While on the island I think at one point I decided that we couldn't take it any further there because it would complicate everything. It couldn't be real while we were still pretending. But that made me feel this relief when we left. It was like the first day of warm sunshine after a long winter, and I wanted nothing more than to lay out and soak it up. But we were still on edge from that morning and it was unfair of me-"

Understanding reached his eyes and he raised a hand to her chin, stopping her mid sentence.

"It wasn't any fault of yours," he said. His focus had narrowed to her face, and she was aware of her pulse in the veins of her neck, as though someone had just begun to strum a building melody on them.

"But there was still some mistake in kissing me. Yes?"

"Not one I regret. I very much doubt there is an oversight that could make me regret kissing you." With a hand still holding her chin, he ran a thumb over her lower lip. "What went wrong was we stopped."

Her lips parted at his touch, and she drew in closer. They lingered there a moment, almost embracing. "That doesn't tell me anything about what happened you know."

"It's not anything you need to worry about. I was ill prepared is all." He brushed his hand across her cheek, pushing back some of the hair framing her face.

"Hmm, and now?" She leaned in closer, her lips nearly brushing his skin.

"Now," a smile took him and he nearly surrendered to the yearning building between them. "Now," He took in a breath pulling away from her soft skin. "I think if we get swept up in this we'll be terribly late meeting with Vermouth."

"Only late? We'd end up missing it entirely." Her eyes gleamed, playing with him.

"With Vermouth, and that person."

"Ah," she turned a rouge cheek away from him. "Then there's no missing it." Sherry bent to grab her white coat from where it had been draped over her other effects, and slipped into it. The thought of how sexy she looked while dressing snagged at his attention. She was still buttoning up her coat as she walked out. "You know distracting me with the promise of kisses only works when you deliver."

Gin, still plenty distracted himself, only now started after her out of the apartment. "I'll be sure to make kissing you a habit then."

She glanced back at this retort and caught his smirk before ducking into the car.

...

Vermouth rubbed under her sleep exhausted eyes and flicked up her gaze at the time yet again. She had just gotten off a fourteen hour flight and was still somehow the first to the meeting place. The ice cubes in her water clinked as she swirled the nearly empty glass around, wishing it was something stronger. The bar at this particular location was host to a great number of thick frilly drinks, that came in an assortment of bright colors. They were served with an equally bright citrus wedge on the edge of the glass. Before the break of dawn was much too early to be glared at by such garish cheeriness. So she'd decided against a morning cocktail. Though, she'd gladly drown herself in an evening's bitter red right now given the chance.

Vermouth's meeting preferences were quite the opposite of that person's, but they had always been like that. That person was the patient one, the type to wake early and wait. A single well-timed strike was the preferred method. Vermouth was only patient when it was called for, and preferred a flurry of confusing strikes to mask the most important one. That person's carefulness, or perhaps over carefulness, was the reason they were meeting at this location as well. They had severed contact with all their previous favored meeting places when they discovered Rye was a mole. A fact Vermouth was particularly bitter about.

She heard the staff welcome a newcomer and was soon joined at her table by Gin and Sherry. The restaurant was empty apart from them and the staff that had just finished taking down chairs.

"I'm not staying long." She began, taking a preventative measure against Gin's predictable coming suggestion that they wait for the boss. "I'm in the middle of a big career move for an alias and plan to be on the next available return flight."

Gin waved her on impassively, and the arguments she had planned fell away, now unneeded. It was slightly unnerving, but not bothersome in itself so she carried on.

"It's our last encounter with that group that I've been tasked to recount, yes?"

Gin nodded.

"That was also the last field assignment of the late Gin before he was burdened with your mentorship." She tested the waters with this. A brief scowl betrayed Gin's previous knowledge of this fact and his following side glance at Sherry suggested that she had not. "He lead the operation. Originally a reconnaissance mission, though it turned out as more of an offensive against that group."

"Why were we looking into them with such high priority?"

"They had become somewhat of a rather irritating pest. They are a fairly recent leech on high society, certainly nothing with roots before the second world war. They specialize in theft primarily."

"The Organization let a mere group of thieves kill my parents then." Sherry cut in.

"You're getting ahead of yourself here." Vermouth hissed. Apparently, their little trip to the Isle of Mermaids had been an informative one. How annoying. "I'm talking about sixteen years ago when we faced the problem of a group of uncertain strength tampering with our affairs. Yes, they are a group of thieves, and at the same time are not. You could say they contract in others to do their dirty work. Though that's really only a gentler way to say they extort whoever they can into stealing what they want. Of course, we hadn't learned this about them yet and were eager for information on what seemed an unreasonably large group to appear so suddenly."

"Then, what went wrong on the operation?" Gin asked.

"A rogue agent essentially." Vermouth supplied. "One by the name of Cachaca." Gin was familiar with the traitor. She could read it in the tense lines of his face. Those two shouldn't have met, though perhaps they hadn't and he'd only heard a rumor. The amount of information he seemed to already know was a growing obstacle. Vermouth would have to phrase this next part delicately without implicating herself.

"Your namesake realized Cachaca had been withholding information and manipulating the other members on the mission. Not trusting anyone after discovering her odd behavior, he went lone wolf. He gave the team under his command false information and attempted to undermine her actions, believing that she had orchestrated the whole operation for some unseen motive. Perhaps even leading the team into a trap. Quite a few members of their group were killed at the time, despite this, they still discovered our intentions in researching death's cure. Thieves that they are they stole the idea. We did manage to contain the situation by feeding them some false line of interest to keep them occupied. Some old lure about gemstones that I can't really recall."

"And then?" Sherry asked, oddly assertive. That sort of disregard for rank was among those behaviors for which Gin had little tolerance. However, he seemed unfazed by it, as though he hardly noticed the social blunder at all.

"That's all." Vermouth continued, now watching more closely for how those two interacted. They weren't sitting particularly close to each other, though the opposite could be stated as well. Neither looked uncomfortable. Which was odd for Sherry, because it was something she typically worked to mask around other syndicate members. Both of their attention was centered on her, but they occasionally glanced at each other. There was something important in the timing of those glances, something familiar almost. Vermouth hadn't stopped speaking despite her new focus on her companion's' behavior. "Their attention was distracted away from The Organization's research and we weren't in direct competition anymore. They weren't a problem, and we were content to ignore each other."

"But they retaliated for that attack five years later." Gin said. She could hear in his voice that this was only the first of many reasons why he thought she was wrong; like he was beginning a list.

"Did they? Was that their motive? It never was clear. It's not like they left a note." Though if they had Vermouth might have sent an anonymous thank you for their choice in collateral to the return address.

"This time they did deliver a message, and it wasn't on the friendly terms you describe. They wanted to be sure the why was understood. But more on that when the boss makes contact. The three of us don't have the pull to draw the line between an ignorable threat and a war declaration."

Vermouth sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. She looked past her table companions to the far storefront window, though wasn't focusing on anything in particular. So that was why that person felt it was necessary for her to come back to Japan. "I'll need to delay my return date then. It's almost a certainty the boss will take measures to prepare for any potential conflict. I've never seen the boss choose to remain unprepared for every contingency." She pushed back her chair. "You'll excuse me as I make my excuses to an agent."

Vermouth stepped out into the flow of early morning commuters and walked a short distance to a smoking area just off the sidewalk. She lit up and pulled out her phone. That was another difference in their meeting preferences. That person preferred non-smoking establishments. Vermouth herself had been coming into fame in America when smoking was at the height of its fashion, and had never bothered to break the habit. Besides, the threat of death seemed more a joke to her than it was to even a young person just entering adulthood.

Her eyes idly wandered the crowds passing before her. She could have sworn she saw something among them before. The movement of passing crowds soon became a blur to her as she slipped into the needed persona and dialed her agent's number.

...

The small restaurant and bar tucked away on a moderately busy Tokyo street had only just opened for its early morning hours. Only guests with a membership could get in at this hour, and such memberships were notoriously difficult to come by. The room sat empty apart from a few guests at a far table, two in black and the third in white.

Akai, formerly living under the alias Moroboshi Dai, ducked past the front window after spotting the group of patrons. He rounded the corner into the service alley and entered the restaurant through the kitchen door. There was a small back room with employee uniforms just off the back entrance so he slipped into it. Akai had changed shirts and taken off his knitted cap before catching the suspicion of the other staff.

"Hey, you new?" A man in a waiter's uniform came over. The other staff in the kitchen turned an ear to the conversation.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry I forgot." Akai said covering for their suspicion. He pulled a punch card from the wall, but then placed his FBI badge over it in his palm as he flashed it towards the man. He made the motion rather quickly so he wouldn't have time to read the credentials or notice anything past the shine of a metal crest. He made a gesture for silence and then put the punch card back where he'd taken it from before continuing to dress in uniform.

The man shrugged and left to return to his work. Akai mentally sighed in relief. He'd been half expecting the staff to have been paid off by the Organization in Black. That possibility still remained, but it was still worth the risk.

The staff in the kitchen went back to work, ignoring him as they had before. Akai soon joined them as he began to towel dry martini and cocktail glasses, keeping an ear out for the conversation in the other room.

He didn't know what he was expecting to overhear. Though with the figures he'd been able to place as Gin and Shiho, along with another in black, the content of their conversation was bound to be valuable. Even to the point of being worth a risk like the one he was taking eavesdropping on it.

The tracker he'd placed on Shiho's coat the last time they'd spoken had been out of range of receivers for several months. He'd thought that they must have found and crushed it when they moved all of the girl's belongings out of their homes that night of the failed ambush. However, it had come back online yesterday and proceeded to travel back to Tokyo. It stayed at a small apartment overnight and when it left this morning he followed it to this small restaurant and bar.

Sharp steps clacked a path back into the bar, and he caught a flash of black in the reflection on wine glasses hanging over the bar counter. Soft feminine words were exchanged and though he couldn't make them out he thought he caught the lilt of Vermouth's voice. Before when he'd looked in the window the other figure in black hadn't looked quite like Vermouth, though perhaps the other had gone and Vermouth had come in the time he wasn't watching. He stole a glance as he turned toward the room to hang clean glasses over the bar.

No, it was Vermouth's voice, and another's face. The same one from before.

"She's right, you should go." Gin's low voice said in answer. It was followed by a chair pushing back and retreating footsteps. Akai considered following for a moment but decided against it when the two remaining began to speak.

"You've scuffled with them recently. How much of a threat are they really?" Vermouth's voice was clearer now that she had sat down facing his direction, although it did seem slightly louder now as well.

"Individually? Little. Their strength is in numbers. It makes sense that their primary tactic is intimidation." Gin's voice held an air of disinterest or perhaps exasperation. "It's to be another war with them then?"

"I doubt it will come to that. Though I'm certain that person would never be content settling for that assumption. Even if they don't seem that strong we'll still need to poise for attack."

The waiter serving their table came around to refill Vermouth's water and their conversation hushed. "Anything for you today, Sir?"

"No, we'll be leaving shortly." Gin said. Akai checked the reflection of the table at this. Gin still had his back to the bar counter, and Vermouth didn't appear to be paying him any attention.

"Problem?" Vermouth asked when the waiter had left.

"I dislike the feeling in the air."

Vermouth gave a huff like a roll of the eye, but she stood all the same. Akai waited until they had left through the door before racing back to change clothes. Before he was on the street to trail them they had disappeared without leaving any clue which direction they had gone.

* * *

Arcs:

Kyoto Arc:

Gin and Sherry meet for the first time when he shoots through her coat collar in order to threaten an insubordinate Organization member who was threatening her. Soon after Sherry is enlisted to help collect the research of a professor the B.O suspects has gone rogue because it relates to the silver bullet project she is heading. Shortly into the mission, they have a run-in with hired strong arms and Gin's superior Brandy leaves to pursue a separate line of interest. Command of the operation is transferred from Brandy to Gin with the high stakes of the new position. After proving a more formidable opponent than originally supposed they lose the research into immortal jellyfish the professor was working on but corner the man himself. In the process, however, they caught the attention of the local police and have to make an escape. Gin completed the mission to terminate the professor without Sherry's knowledge, and Sherry obtained three of the jellyfish the professor was studying, so the mission was mostly counted as a success.

Big Sight Arc:

Sherry begins research into the immortal jellyfish. Brandy, her handler for the project, wants her to develop a poison out of the jellyfish venom because of its useful qualities and forces her into compliance by threatening her sister Akemi and her boyfriend. Brandy also seeks out Gin's help. It's revealed that when Brandy pursued the strong arms in the last arc she found out they were working with the FBI and had obtained photographs of their identities. They begin a secret - from the Org. - operation in order to contain and destroy them before their identities are comprised. They go to enlist the help of Sherry and her sister in order to keep the operation a secret, and Dai ends up taking Akemi's place. They begin prep for the opp. And the budding romantic tension between Gin and Sherry from the last arc develops into something slightly more substantial. Vermouth is introduced to the plot when she is assigned to look into Brandy's suspicious behavior. Vermouth also picks up on the romantic intrigue between Gin and Sherry and warns Gin that such a relationship would be unwise, leading to conflicting loyalties, but also appears to have a vested interest in manipulating him.

The heist on Tokyo Big Sight takes place. Brandy is confronted by Vermouth who cuts off her communication with her team and tells her the boss wanted her to come back. Dai who is trying to infiltrate the Org. at this time for the FBI finds a way to show off his skills on the mission by figuring out Brandy was using the sniper rifle on a nearby roof. He uses this information to change the plan from what he is told which angers Gin who took control of the opp. at Brandy's disappearance. They end up securing the SD card with their photos without any casualties, however, because Brandy had reason to believe the FBI had confiscated video surveillance feed from the Tower she blew up a nearby FBI van, killing the agents inside. Brandy is executed for taking Sherry on an unsanctioned mission, and Gin is put over Sherry's project. Vermouth ensures Dai is granted the codename Rye, but he is put under Gin.

Because Gin distrusts Rye he plans to take him on an assassination mission because he believes he won't go through with it. However, Rye is found out for a spy before it ever goes down. This prompts Gin to remove Akemi and Shiho from the FBI's reach. In moving, Sherry rediscovers her father's Silver bullet journal. Gin also takes the opportunity to snoop on the FBI team waiting in ambush where they overhear vital information.

Isle of Mermaids:

That person is still suspicious of the FBI investigating the Org. and fears there may be more traitors. Gin and Sherry use newly found leads to point them in the direction of an Island they believe might hold some answers. Including answers about the silver bullet project. While there they unwittingly attract the attention of some unsavory types that overhear a critical piece of information. This ultimately leads to a great disruption among the locals they were hoping to find answers from. Time passes they build trust with locals but find little information that is useful to Gin. Gin frequently reflects on the past in hopes of finding answers. The journal leads them to discoveries about both the past and the project. Gin and Sherry grew closer. Just before they leave they are confronted by the unsavory group from before (who turn out to be a group Gin had heard of, and are rivals of the Org.) who are tied to the past and provide vaguely useful information, but also a threat to the Org. During the conflict, Sherry makes the decision to risk her life by jumping off a cliff rather than shoot at her attacker as Gin instructed. (Ch.23 if you don't recall this) They leave the island to escape further conflict, and once back in Tokyo Gin and Sherry's relationship meets a milestone and a turning point with their first kiss and subsequent reaction.


	26. Final Arc (2)

Chapter 26

Three weeks had passed since they'd returned from the Isle of Mermaids and the resources for a potential conflict had been gathered for two. That suggested that their scuffle with that group of thieves wasn't going anywhere after all. Although Gin had been feeling the occasional presence of eyes on him. Strangely it was around Sherry when the feeling persisted the strongest. He had nearly written it off as feeling vulnerable because he had started keeping his gun within arms reach rather than on his person when they were intimate. Still, he hadn't dismissed his instincts and so wasn't surprised when Vermouth got back with word of the rival syndicate's plan for a first strike.

Vermouth was particularly talented at gathering information, so if there was information to be had she would find it. Gin was at a warehouse where perhaps a fifth of the new inventory was being stored when she found him. It was the largest amount in one location and they had yet to finish recording the stock.

"They tripped a wire." she said casually leaning against a shipping crate of ammo.

"Which one?" he asked looking up from his list.

"At the docks, the weapons shipment. Their first move is supposed to be to steal the weapons we're bringing in to fight them and use them against us." She smirked.

"How predictable. That was the easiest one to find. Wasn't it?"

"Their information isn't very good it would seem." She hummed pleasantly.

"It's unfortunate that they are serious about this," Gin said marking the box she was leaning against in the log. He had expected them to have the wit to back off after what happened on the island, apparently wrongly so. "You've informed that person I assume."

"Of course, earlier this morning." She pushed off the box.

"Then I'll proceed to plan." He said stepping down the line of shipping crates. "Vodka," he called out. The thick man came around from a row of crates over, holding a similar list to Gin's. "Inform the team at the docks to move to the second location."

That's all Gin would need to say. Vodka was good with information and recall. He had never known the man to forget the particulars of events or assignments, even after the fact. Gin had a theory that the majority of the man's intellect was used as storage rather than for complex thought. The man may hold on to more pieces than anyone else, but whether he could put the puzzle together was still up for debate.

That person's plan at this stage was to forestall an exchange and disappear wherever they managed to spot the organization. They'd keep a couple of surface movements to bait them and keep them out of searching for actually important exchanges. If they continued to pursue after so long they would change strategies. Starting now they were officially at war, even if it was only moderately so.

...

Sherry came up the steps to her apartment just ahead of Akemi.

"You didn't have to insist on helping me unpack you know. I don't have that much stuff. Besides, you're only back in the country for a little while." Sherry let her sister in through the door. Akemi was fresh off the plane from studying abroad and her cheery smile wore at the edges.

"What has it been, months since you moved? Everything is still in boxes!" Akemi sunk down next to the scattering of boxes by the bed. Sherry hadn't told her sister that she had been away until a few weeks ago. She wasn't even sure she could approach the subject without revealing everything she'd learned about their parents' death plainly on her face. And that wasn't something she could put her sister through.

"Have you really been working that much?" Akemi reached into one and pulled out a blouse now lined with creases from where it had been folded all this time. Sherry had been working more now that she had a strong lead in the project. This was hardly the reason her things remained unpacked. She simply hadn't been spending a great deal of time in her own apartment. "I thought you had more respect for your clothes than this." Her sister teased, undercutting the concern she'd voiced just prior. It was a habit of hers whenever she said something serious. She likely did this to spare her from answering.

Her sister was right about the clothes. The blouse she held so casually was from a high-end designer and had been tailored to fit her perfectly. Under normal circumstances she would have never let those creases sit like that. If her sister knew the price she would have dropped it in shock and then been horrified at doing so. Being raised by, and more importantly favored by, the organization was an odd mix of living among the criminal underworld and high society. Which reflecting back wasn't such a peculiar coupling after all.

Sherry reached in and unwound a shirt that had been used to pad her glassware, trying not to snicker at the irony of the high-end shirt being crumpled to protect the 100 yen glass cup. She was in the middle of placing the glass in the cupboard above her head when her sister's gasp startled her. She dropped the cup and it shattered across the floor.

"Why would you do that-?" Sherry began to say. Her sister ignored the now fragmented cup and reached out to grasp her forearms. Akemi didn't say anything, only gaped down at her arms. "What?"

She looked down and realized what had happened. Her long sleeves had slipped down when she reached over her head, revealing the now scared scratches running from her wrists to elbows. She hadn't needed to keep them bandaged very long as the scrapes were rather shallow.

"Sorry I didn't say anything, I-" She was cut off when she was suddenly enveloped in a hug. She felt her sister's breath rapidly expanding in her chest. Tight arms secured around her without a hint of release.

"No, it's okay," Sherry said leaning back and prying herself from her sister's affection. " I actually fell and," disbelief and anger flash very briefly across Akemi's face. Then it was gone, only sympathy and understanding remained as if they had been the only reaction to exist at all. Sherry was pointing to the injuries on her forearm. "- the gravel got me when I caught myself, well tried to catch myself."

Akemi was studying the scars again, quickly flicking her gaze between them and Sherry's face. "They'll heal pretty fast, this wasn't that long ago." She reassured her sister. Akemi smiled in response, but her eyes betrayed her worry.

"Come on this is hardly the first time I've skid a knee," Sherry said lightly, not immediately considering the fact that Akemi hadn't been there for many of the years she'd spent in school in America. "This _is_ the first time I've shattered glass like that. I pride myself on not dropping beakers." She smiled the incident off and swept up the mess.

They were soon happily unpacking the rest of her belongings when her phone rang. It was Gin so she took it into the other room.

...

Akemi stood and stepped softly closer to the door where Shiho had taken her call. She pressed her ear flat to the gap between the door and the wall feeling quite ridiculous but desperate in her concern for how the Organization was treating her sister.

"She said _Bourbon_ found it? Who is-?" She heard Shiho say. "Okay... Okay. Well if it is actually important for me to be there... Yes, I want to know. We've been trying to figure it out for months... I'll see you there then."

Another voice came through just loud enough to be audible. "Wait, Sherry."

"Yes?"

His response was too quiet to hear again.

"Okay then, bye."

Akemi heard her sister's footsteps draw near to the door she was pressed against, and she backed away. Despite barely picking up any of their conversation she had heard enough.

Sherry. He had called her by the codename Sherry.

Akemi never knew much about her parent's involvement with the Organization in Black. But what she did know she was certain of. Her parents had never wanted alcohol codenames, preferring to remain independent from the organization. They did not want their children getting them either which is why Akemi was not being primed to take on an important role within the organization during their lifetime.

However, it seemed her little sister had not benefitted from the same protection of their parents' wishes. After their death, the organization must have been free to pursue after the remaining daughter, who they primed to take after her parent's role and secured there with a codename.

How dare they. Akemi was fuming, and it took all her strength to pull on a smile as Shiho reentered the room. Thankfully her sister's focus was past her or she would have surely seen her mental state.

"I'm sorry," Shiho excused. "I won't be long. Pick up dinner, come back here. I might even beat you back."

She bid her farewell with an even voice, but her mind remained far from the present moment. That was it. She was going to get her sister out from their control, even if it killed her.

...

From what Gin had seen of their interaction Vermouth and Sherry did not seem on the best of terms. Although Vermouth was on good terms with relatively few people from what he'd gathered. Still, if there wasn't a need for them to meet he certainly wasn't going to initiate it. For this reason, he had asked Sherry to wait in the foyer of the Organization owned firing range while he got the new information Vermouth said she'd obtained.

He didn't expect to be left waiting for Vermouth himself as she was the one who had called their meeting. When he got to the office on the second floor, however, no one was there. He glanced around the office and was about to leave when a man entered through the door. He was blonde and had a deceptively trustable face. Gin listened carefully for the rhythm of his steps as he approached. He wasn't Vermouth in disguise irritatingly enough.

"Bourbon." Gin greeted with less than a cordial manner.

"She said you were expecting me." He snapped the door closed behind himself. He was smiling, as he was frequently. It was a false smile nearly indistinguishable from a genuine one. Gin had grown up around politicians and still found his demeanor uncanny. Perhaps the smile was genuine and only the assumed reason for it false. Like the cunning grin of a fox.

"More or less." Gin said in answer. He should have seen this coming. This was just like Vermouth. "What is it you found?"

"A few weeks ago Vermouth was discussing Cachaca with me-"

"You can skip the anecdote, she told me before." Apparently, Bourbon had been rather attached to the Miyano couple as a child and launched his own investigation into the woman responsible for their death. " Just hand me whatever it is you found." Gin snapped his fingers for the paper he'd been holding.

He offered Gin the paper. "A letter and death bed confession of some nobody on the outskirts of the Organization, addressed to the FBI."

Gin read.

Let this be my dying declaration. In my time I have witnessed many atrocities performed by this Organization. I deeply regret I held on to what I learned until now in fear, but I cannot go back and make myself less of a coward. I'm afraid this is all I can do, little and far overdue as it is I hope it is enough to bring aid to the many victims of this terrible Organization.

Here is what I know: The Organization protects itself with secrecy. The Boss of the Organization communicates with only top members in its innermost circle. More than ten years ago I managed to sneak onto a computer of one of the organization's members overseeing my work. There I found an email addressed to a person with the codename Gin who was implied to have direct contact with the Organization's boss. I believe that if you could get to this person you have a chance at the Organization's Boss.

The letter went on describing each illegal act the man had personally witnessed or heard of in great detail. It included crimes solely on American soil and those between the two countries along with those in Japan. He finished with an explanation of how the organization would soon bring about his death. The letter was practically gift wrapped to aid in a case against the syndicate and be admissible in American courts. It also clarified to him how an internal American law enforcement agency might gain jurisdiction over a syndicate operating out of Japan.

"The man who sent this?"

"Died the way he described." Bourbon supplied. "The FBI wasn't the only place this was sent as well. Though it would seem my rival was the only one smart enough to put other pieces together and find where we were operating."

Gin might have raised an eyebrow at the rival comment if he hadn't immediately put it together. Bourbon had suspected Moroboshi Dai of being an FBI mole. Claiming it was all too obvious. Though Vermouth stood as his only witness to this claim and she wasn't exactly reliable.

Of course Gin hadn't spoken to Bourbon about Rye before he discovered him for an FBI mole himself. As a general rule Gin made a point not to talk with Bourbon. He was tricky like Vermouth and Gin didn't need to subject himself to two members that delighted in twisting others' minds to their will. Naturally the both of them got on famously. It was why, although it didn't please him, he wasn't surprised to find him when he went looking for Vermouth.

It was within reason that he would consider them rivals; Vermouth said they hated each other. Bourbon thought the way Rye's actions flaunted his belief in his own moral superiority made him insufferable. According to Vermouth, the two met in an Organization training facility in the few days between Rye's appointment as a code named member and the first field test Gin set up. A short conversation about how Dai gained the codename Rye later and Bourbon hated the man more than even Gin had ever been able. Bourbon subscribed to the belief that some detestable actions could be justified if the ends were important enough. Rye disagreed, and their ensuing argument only made Bourbon think the man was a hypocrite. Which paired horribly with the high horse of an attitude he already thought the man possessed. Something else had also transpired between them but Vermouth hadn't been forthcoming with that information, which Gin knew meant that something about it would incriminate her. Gin didn't care enough to figure out what, or which other parts of her story had also been twisted from the truth.

Bourbon had continued explaining how he found the letter and figured out which agencies it had been sent to. He spoke of each deduction like a fascinating turn of a game. Gin was sure Bourbon fancied himself on par with those detectives so great they could only be fictional. It was his style of information gathering, detective work. If Vermouth could be said to specialize in infiltration Bourbon's equivalent would be deduction. Regardless, it was only just that, information gathering and Gin bored of it quickly. The how of it was irrelevant and he'd already been told the what.

...

He paced back down into the foyer. Sherry was still waiting there, sitting on one of the long benches that were built into the wall of sheet metal. The benches were somewhere between the height of a proper bar counter and a bench, which made them impractical for either purpose. Her legs dangled down, not reaching the floor, and he was reminded for a moment of the bench at the edge of the cliff. And more pressingly the events that led Sherry to believe it was a good idea to jump off of said cliff the day they left a couple weeks before.

He motioned her over, and she slid off the metal slab.

"The traitor we've been looking for has been dead for over four years." He handed her the letter and she skimmed over it.

"So the trail ends here." She handed it back with a breath of relief.

"Not exactly. Bourbon said this letter was sent to at least two law enforcement agencies that he knew of, though it was likely there had been more copies. Both were distant law enforcement agencies the Organization hadn't penetrated deeply enough to hear about it at the time."

"Quite an effective strike. I'm assuming that's how the FBI got the Organization's scent."

Gin nodded and started heading toward the firing range. Sherry followed after him. "You can take a guess at the agent overseeing his work at the time, who was careless enough to leave him alone with a computer with sensitive information on it."

Sherry raised an eyebrow at him.

"I imagine she was a little busy planning her own betrayal of the Organization around that time." Gin said darkly passing through the door to the firing range. Her features formed in understanding. "We're still dealing with the repercussions of that particular betrayal as well." In fact, it was the problem that had him so worried now. A confrontation with that group seemed inevitable at this point.

Gin stepped into a booth and took out a spare gun from within his coat.

"Looking to show off?" She said taking up a mischievous look and leaning against a wall in the firing booth where he'd stopped.

"We're not here for me." He loaded the small silver gun in his hand and placed it on the shelf in front of him before stepping aside.

"Oh," she switched positions with him and picked up the gun aiming at the target at the end of the firing range. She glanced back at him. "Aren't you going to wrap your arms around me and direct me through this." She teased. "Surely you're familiar with the trope."

Gin stood back behind the booth, arms crossed. "That would defeat the purpose of this exercise. You need to be able to take action for yourself. You can't hesitate in a clutch moment again."

Her face took on a determined or perhaps insulted expression. The gun, which she had nearly left resting on the shelf in front of her again, was aimed and fired in a fraction of a moment.

"I wasn't doubting your ability to fire quickly."

"What then?" She placed the gun down hard on the shelf and turned to face him.

"It's a block that most people have to work through. You're too afraid of actually hitting someone so you hesitate to fire or throw your aim when presented with a real situation. We're at war. I don't want you to end up getting yourself killed."

She blinked at him, stunned for a moment. "I ended up fine."

He reached out for her hand and turned up the long sleeve of her coat. Long faded red lines raked up the skin of her arm.

She looked down at her own injuries. "But _these_ can heal."

"This time." Gin said, letting his gaze linger. He couldn't let her put not hurting anyone above her own safety. Not now, when she was in so much danger.

Gin held up a palm. "I need to be sure you are not only able, but willing to defend yourself."

Sherry folded her coat sleeve back down. "Sure," she dismissed, not meeting his eyes.

Gin's palm still hovered in the air. "I'm not letting this go. I waited until your injuries healed until I confronted you, but now you're going to have to prove it. Strike my hand as hard as you can and I might believe you're sincere."

Her eyes flicked up at him, sure that he was kidding.

"Through a punch, Sherry." He was serious. "You're not liable to actually hurt me, but it will be a start."

She glanced around uncertainly and shifted her feet. "Fine." She finally said before jabbing at his open hand. The blow was relatively weak, only meeting his hand. He closed his grasp over her fist.

"Seriously this time." He released her fisted hand. "Punch through where my hand is, not at it."

She scrunched up her face and hit with more a power behind her.

"Again."

Once more the clap of her fist meeting his palm sounded sharply in an otherwise silent room.

"Again."

She let out a heavy breath but didn't move to strike him again. The exertion of throwing the punches loosened her emotions.

"No." She breathed out, gaining more force behind her words. "I won't, Gin. I just won't."

Gin still stood with his palm in the air, blocking her way out of the booth. "We can't afford to make that kind of call. You're going to get yourself killed like this." He lowered his hand, and she met his eyes. "I won't stand back and let you chose not to make what would be the smartest option for your own survival."

"The smartest choice..." she said, her voice a weak echo. Her gaze fell to an unfocused corner before she rocked back on her heels and gained momentum. A fire found its way to her eyes, and an intensity flicked back up at him. "You're so confident you've always made the smartest choice, and perhaps you have. Maybe it would have been the _smarter_ choice to shoot at that man when you told me to. But the smartest choice isn't always the best one, or the right one."

Something in her expression made him step aside and open up the path out of the firing booth. This had become about much more than just her hesitation to fire that day. She started to walk past him out of the room.

"But still," Gin said, something in his voice sounding remarkably honest and vulnerable. Sherry stopped to listen. "Are you really so eager to let yourself be killed that you won't defend yourself?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What then?"

"I'm not going to shoot someone as a first resort, when there is still another option." She was still facing away from him. "I won't believe that is the best choice, even if it might be the smartest for my survival. And I don't think I can be with someone who thinks it is."

There was a painful finality to the words. When she raised her foot to start walking away again he felt something sharp rise in his chest. A heaviness within him dragged after her.

He sensed her begin to leave in more than just the physical sense and he was speaking in reaction to her departure before thought came into play. In that moment all he could think was he didn't want her to walk away.

"Perhaps you're right," Gin said, and Sherry stopped in her tracks. "Maybe what seems the smartest at the time isn't the best in the end. In that situation or others. There must be some factor that I can't seem to account for. Something that too often alludes me." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she angled back to face him. "But that doesn't make me fear for your safety any less."

"There has to be some middle ground. A less extreme option than considering all the world a death match." Sherry said. Gin recalled a warning Brandy had given him when he first met Sherry, to not let her know about the professor's death. It had been one he had been careful to keep and apply to later situations.

"Perhaps there is, but I will not give the advantage to those actively trying to kill us. We're at war and the man who draws second rarely lives."

Sherry hesitated and looked as though she might walk away again. His chest tightened as he waited for her response. "I'll admit war changes things. But when have you ever considered the Organization not at war? Really?"

He hadn't. The Organization's very nature was one of opposition to the world. Sherry wasn't of the mindset to accept the harsher realities of life. He needed to turn this argument away from this topic.

"I wonder about your perspective sometimes. When I'm reminded that we're not the same. Like how you arrange each outfit you wear even though it will be hidden under your lab coat at work all day. How you're perfectly comfortable around weapons, but still that day gave pause firing, saying you'd never..." Her gaze darted to a far corner before glancing wide eyed back at him. "You meant you'd never fired a gun at someone before, right?" She didn't answer, so he continued. "You'll leave the bed unmade all day but always make it before going to sleep. You'll hum the tune of the week's top pop song, but can still recognize the great composers by ear. What a strange combination of familiar and foreign you are to me. It's something I think we both knew from the beginning. But that also means we have something to offer each other. Perhaps introduce alternatives we haven't considered before. That's why I want you with me. If I haven't thought of the best move I want you to be by my side to offer your input."

The feathery touch of her fingertips traced up the rough back of his hand where he still held her shoulder. Her movement felt carefull, as if she were worried she might cut herself on something that had been shattered.

"Are you saying we complement each other?" Her words trembled; She was somewhere between laughter and tears. The tips of her shoulder-length hair brushed his hand when she must have leaned her head ever so slightly towards where he held her. "That is quite a cliche to end this affair on."

Gin felt a smile, like a passing summer breeze brush across his lips. He found his irritation with that particular running joke of hers had faded with time, and he had acquired a taste for its humor. Or perhaps, it was the taste of her to which he had grown fond; the taste of her company, her laughter, her smile, her kiss.

"Perhaps it could be." Gin said, and cupped her hand in both of his. She looked up at his eyes with a different kind of warmth. "But I don't want it to be the last, Sherry."


	27. Final Arc (3)

Chapter 27

"What do you say to that?" She asked. There was a small shake of laughter in her chest and she wiped a spare tear. "I don't really want it to be the last either." Sherry whispered and stepped back into him, pressing her shoulders into his chest. "What now? We make up and kiss in the rain?"

"Didn't we just?" He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her for a moment. She nodded, sniffling a little. She reached up to grabbed his arms where he held her, then relaxed her head against him. He let the silence rest, afraid any action now might alter the tentative peace. Fearing that at any moment she might walk away and he might never hold her again. She let go of his arms but left her body resting against him.

"It would seem we're still due the latter half though." She tilted her head to the side in an effort to look back at him.

"Oh you think so?" He smiled, flipping her around to face him, but keeping their proximity close.

There was a bang of the metal door swinging open and an out of breath teenager scurried into the firing range.

"Is there a Gin in here?" He was bent over with his hands on his knees. Gin turned an annoyed glare in the kid's direction. "There's been an attack on one of the new warehouses. An explosion just a few minutes ago."

"What?" Gin broke away from her. "Those sly bastards." Gin slipped the small silver gun back into his coat. "What location?"

"Location G, I think they said it was." The boy was just now gaining his breath. It was the warehouse Gin had been taking inventory at this morning.

"I'll need to go," Gin faced Sherry once more. "Wait here for me to get back, there's an office upstairs you can wait in. They'll be expecting us to start making movements and will be watching for it."

She gave him the look she did when she thought he was being overly cautious. "Because staying behind worked so well last time." She quipped.

"I mean it. It's not wise for you to be about right now or I would tell you to head back to your apartment."

"Fine." She gave in. "More important things." She shewed him on and Gin started on his way out.

...

Sherry was not back nearly as quickly as she said she would be. Before she had the chance to worry she received an apology for taking so long via text. Something had come up and she would be quite a while longer. Akemi promptly deflated unto the bed, slinging an arm over her forehead. Truthfully she was feeling the jet lag and would enjoy a few hours of shut eye.

There was a ring at Sherry's door.

Akemi rose to answer it with no small amount of restatement. "Hello?"

There was a man about her age at the door with a dusting of blonde hair and skin just a few shades darker than was typical for the Tokyo area. He wasn't wearing any more black than the average citizen, but something about his presence loomed. "Oh, you're one of them. I didn't realize black was optional." She set her weight to one hip and crossed her arms over her chest.

"A good guess." His eyes gleamed with delight at her placing him so quickly, a newfound interest in her underlying the expression. "I'll admit there are few who suspect me at first glance."

She reexamined the figure in her doorway. He had the charismatic face of someone who made friends easily; like a member of student council in grad school or a barista whose friendly personality was often mistaken for flirtation. Still, there was something cunning in his eyes, a mental sharpness as lethal as any blade.

"Bourbon is the name I was given. I feel you're owed that introduction for having seen past the civilian facade."

"My sister's not here." Akemi was uninterested and unimpressed.

"I know. She's not who I wanted to talk to. Can I come in?"

"If you must." She made no effort to disguise the reluctance in her voice. She couldn't refuse him. Not with his rank as a codenamed member. A fact that he'd oh so chivalrously thought to inform her.

She let him through the door, but remained in the entry.

"Can I ask the reason you wanted to speak with me?" Akemi asked with a brazen impatience. She had little tolerance left for the social conventions of the Organization.

"I only wanted to inquire after your relationship with one Akai Shuichi. You would know him as Moroboshi Dai."

"He hasn't made contact since the move." Akemi huffed. She had thought she'd seen the last of these check ups months ago.

"No," Bourbon redirected. "I was wondering about the circumstances of your first meeting with him, four years ago."

"Coincidental, or perhaps accidental on my part." She recalled feeling guilty for not seeing him on the crosswalk until she had hit him.

"You're quite quick to supply the answer you think I'm after. It's rather telling. Why would you think the fact that your meeting seemed a coincidence was of the most importance, and not the details of the occasion?" Bourbon quickly caught her in her lie. Of course it had been no coincidence he was struck by the car of the one person close enough to the organization to be helpful, but not close enough to raise suspicion.

"I put him in the hospital." she supplied, pretending to not understand his implications.

"And you of course visited him there." He offered a guess.

"Well yes." She narrowed her eyes at him; it was an unusual assumption coming from an Organization member. Since they discovered Dai as an FBI mole she had been questioned about him like this several times. Most asked if he had pressed charges after she told them she had hospitalized him, assuming that was their next meeting point. People who assumed she had romantically waited by his bedside were generally friends wondering about the story of how she met her boyfriend.

Akemi reexamined the man standing in her entry once more. "You're like him. Aren't you?"

His gentle features turned dark. "I'm nothing like him. I'd never do what he did."

"No," she tried to clarify what she meant. "I was wrong earlier when I guessed you were one of them. You're not."

"Oh?"

"You're like Dai."

"Huh," he only smiled at her, in that same way he had been, like he found her deeply fascinating. "I should have expected this of the woman he was interested in." He held his chin in thought for a moment.

"Expected what?"

"That will be all." He said stepping out, and leaving Akemi in her state of confusion.

...

It was an hour before Gin returned for Sherry. She hadn't expected him to be back so quickly and had fallen asleep in the chair. The desk chair had a minute lean to the left and made the only comfortable way to rest in it to sit diagonally, so her legs were up in the desk to her right and her back was against the left corner. The click of the door opening woke her, but she didn't stir just yet. Sleep still clung heavily to her eye lids.

She pried her eyes open just enough to see who had entered. Gin had stopped in the doorway and looked taken back.

"It's been awhile since I've caught someone sleeping like that behind that desk." He must have seen her open her eyes.

She sat up, stretching her sleep-stiff muscles. "The explosion?"

"They got a good chunk of the inventory, though don't appear to have stolen anything. Probably knew they wouldn't have the time. They weren't still around by the time we got there."

"Sounds like we were out foxed," Sherry said in a kitten sized yawn.

"We won't be underestimating them again. It's caused far too many loses." His voice was taut. A harsh reminder of the severity of war that could be more easily forgotten when one was still half asleep. "That will be their last moment with the upper hand."

Thoughts of explosions and their casualties weighed heavily on her and she sank deeper into the desk chair. The remembered taste of salt in the wind rose bitterly in her mouth, along with the image of a jade current rushing against the scorched metal frame of her parents' boat.

"That person plans to take a more aggressive approach since our attempts to dissuade a war previously failed. That person also sent orders to secure the work on the Silver Bullet project so it can't be stolen during the coming war."

"It's serious enough to halt progress on that, huh?" She picked at the peeling leather of the chair's armrest.

"This group has no qualms with significant collateral damage, as you well know. We can't be careless." He gestured for her to follow and started on his way out, continuing to speak as he went. Sherry trailed after him. "For the time being, you're to resume work on your alternative project. That person believes it could be pivotal in keeping this war from drawing too much outside attention. We still have the FBI to worry about, along with any other agency that received that letter."

Sherry had stopped a moment at the bottom of the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. 'Alternative project'; she had orders to resume work on the poison. That was what he meant. Orders from that person that she had no hope of refusing.

An electric fear crept up her back. It was the same feeling as being watched; the feeling that she was prey about to be pounced upon; the feeling of being utterly trapped.

...

The lab was colder now. It was the first change she noticed walking through the doors the following morning. The metal counters had never looked so bleak and indifferent to the people who worked on them as they did now that they were bare. Their steel surface was frigid and struck a strong resemblance to autopsy tables, placing her in the role of coroner.

The materials from the Silver bullet project had been packed overnight and taken away. By the time Sherry was back in the rooms they had been working in, they had been striped down to only basic equipment.

She walked along the empty room, having arrived intentionally early. The jellyfish tanks remained and their occupants blinked at her as they drifted around and around in their silence vigil. A thin file waited on the ledge in front of the tanks.

She rested her forearms on the bitter cold slab of metal, ignoring the manila folder, and returned their scrutiny at face level. Delicate bells, as thin and flowing as the water itself, danced before her. Each held the power to shred its own fine veil like body at any given moment; an intricate process of great destruction, tearing down all the progress it had made in its life to that point, sending a signal to each cell to self-destruct. It was a process _intended_ to be followed by rebirth.

Sherry opened the folder. The majority of the data had been compiled by Brandy. That was back when she had been instructed to, and tried to refuse to, create this poison the first time. She remembered vividly where on the folder Brandy had tapped against it after threatening her sister Akemi. She sat down on a distant stool, though not so far as to escape the watchful gaze of jellyfish, blinking with a patient anticipation. She stared blankly at that spot of white space just below the jellyfish venom's approximate lethal dosage. She spent the first hour, before anyone else was do to arrive, glaring at that spot, pretending to go over the information.

...

In the days following the bombing of one of the Organization's storehouses, Sherry didn't hear news of any additional attacks. However, she figured that she probably would have never heard the particulars of the first one if she hadn't been with Gin at the time.

She was staying at her own apartment while Akemi was in town and so hadn't seen much of Gin lately. When she had seen him he was on alert. It wasn't that noticeable a difference to someone who wasn't familiar with the particulars of his normal behavior. He was slightly more direct in his actions and words and took to scanning their surroundings for danger more frequently. It lead her to believe the fighting had gotten more serious, as he said it would, since the unexpected explosion.

For this reason, Sherry had been keeping her commute to the lab short; driving directly there and back without spending too much time out on her own in the city or on public transportation. When she pulled back up to her apartment today there was a car parked in her space. A blue Lexus that she recognized and could now place as belonging to Vermouth.

She considered driving away, and were it not for the thought of Akemi, she would have.

Vermouth was sitting at the small desk pushed up against a wall in her apartment, waiting. Thankfully, Akemi wasn't at the apartment.

"Did something happen? Is there news?" Sherry asked, waiting to slip off her shoes until she had an answer.

Vermouth shook her head. "Nothing for you to worry over."

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure?" Sherry snapped the door harshly closed behind her, her smile blaringly false. Vermouth ignored her lack of welcome and continued as if they were on much friendlier terms.

"Earlier, while I was waiting here, it became apparent that your liquor supply is either exceptionally well hidden or criminally understocked."

Sherry stared blankly at her.

"It occurred to me, when I realized that you didn't even possess the proper glassware, that you only just turned twenty." Vermouth gestured to a pair of wine glasses and bottle on the desk that had been set behind her.

"A gift...?" Sherry said, uncertain. "You're waiting here to give me... a gift."

"Well no. I'm waiting here because I had something interesting to show you. The belated present was because of the current tragic state of your wine cabinet as I stated before." Vermouth turned toward the desk and computer monitor on it. The screen was open to a newspage about the recent explosion in the warehouse district. "I was expecting investigators to attribute the blast to a leak in a gas line - a favorite excuse of theirs - but they didn't rule it accidental."

"It wasn't." Sherry stated the obvious.

"But we planted false evidence to make it look like it was," Vermouth explained. "Someone on the investigating team saw past it and accredited the explosion to an act of arson."

Sherry leaned over the desk and scrolled through the article. A young detective and consultant to the police department named Kudo was responsible for the discovery.

"So the organization will have to be more careful planting evidence. What does it matter?"

"The detective in the article, he found the team those thieves contracted in to blow up the warehouse. They've been taken into custody."

"I assume they didn't know anything about the Organization or you would be more alarmed."

"Correct," Vermouth said, scrolling passively to the bottom of the article. "But it's something else that they knew that is particularly interesting. In the tapes of the police interview, that we acquired, they said their employers suddenly had them change targets at the last minute after they were visited by a mysterious man. They describe him as having piercing dark eyes, and black curly hair just long enough to poke out from under a knitted cap. Sound like anyone we know?"

"Short hair?" Sherry thought aloud, he must have cut it.

"Looks like our little FBI mole stuck around and has taken to meddling. It's why I'm really here. I had a suspicion that he'd bugged something of yours, and after a quick sweep - when I discovered your depressing lack of anything stronger than orange juice - I was proven correct."

"Really?"

"On a coat of yours, the one with the hole in the collar."

Sherry picked up the white bundle from off the bed. She held onto it and wore it frequently despite the damage for somewhat sentimental, or perhaps foolishly romantic reasons. The bullet hole in the collar was from her first meeting with Gin. She smiled, hanging it back in the closet.

Audio started from the computer as she turned back toward the room. The voice held the cadence of a news reporter.

"Did you click on something?" She started to ask before the content of the video caught her attention. She stepped closer and listened.

"Today is the commemoration of last year's arson attack on Kyoto university. Investigators still have not released any further information on the person of interest seen fleeing from the scene. The man described in the bulletin was also believed to be connected to the still open homicide case looking into the death of a professor from the university that was found fatally shot over a dozen blocks from the university less than an hour after the attack. Police are still hesitant to release more details on the case over a year after the incident -"

Sherry clicked off the news video. Vermouth turning it on had been no accident. She glared at the now smirking woman. Vermouth's brows rose in faint surprise, a small question forming in her features.

"You already knew this. How odd. I thought for sure it was something he'd be smart enough to keep from you." Vermouth's eyes studied her own and she realized for the first time that there wasn't an emotion Vermouth couldn't read off a person's face. She felt bare before her, totally at her mercy. And that was a terrifying place to be.

Sherry watched Vermouth read her reaction to her statement, learning that Gin hadn't in fact explicitly told her he was a mercenary.

"You've known for a while." Vermouth continued using Sherry's reaction to confirm her guesses. Sherry forced herself to look away, but even that was a reaction to be read. "And it didn't stop you."

"Why?" She had fisted her hands into tight balls, but at the same time crossed them over her stomach, her shoulders tense. "I don't understand why you care."

"Gin is fiercely loyal to the Organization, and I doubt you ever can be."

Sherry stood stunned. Uncertain of how she was supposed to react, how she was supposed to feel. Angry, annoyed, scared? She settled on uncomfortable. The only thing she knew for sure was that she didn't want to be having this conversation any more. Didn't want to feel like the subject of a study behaving differently than expected. Thankfully, Vermouth left her, and she could collapse onto the mattress.

...

Several dozen rats tumbled about in cages, full of life and energy. Many played rough games with one another, chasing and grappling about, squeaking when the play got too violent. Others sniffed about the edges of the bars with their fine white whiskers and soft pink noses that twitched gently. Still more snuggled in a great pile of fluff and feet, tucked in a corner.

It wouldn't be long now.

The water they'd been given was laced with venom. Sherry needed to find the exact fifty percent lethality of the toxin. That is, the amount of poison it takes to kill fifty percent of the group being tested. She'd placed different concentrations of the venom in each cage's water supply and now it was only a waiting game.

The first rat from the cage with the strongest concentration lapped a drink from the dispenser. The metal feeding tube make a clack, clack, clack sound as he drank. She penned the exact time. Before she had finished jotting the last millisecond the rat had fallen and uttered its last high and pitiful squeak. She couldn't bring herself to write the second time. Another stepped over the first, not noticing its passing and a tiny pink tongue darted out to lick the small metal ball in the water dispenser. It waddled away but before long grew stiff and silent. Her stomach sat uncomfortably and she set down the pen.

She had heard the metal clink of rats lapping up water in the next cages as well. She sat frozen in place, as though she was watching something horrible that had already happened. None of them were dead yet. Though all showed signs of distress. Their eyes squeezed shut with the pain and many whimpered, a high piercing noise between a child's cry and a whistle. A few curled up to soothe themselves. Others bumped their head against the cage floor or wall as though they thought if they could put pressure on their heads it might relieve the pain. Her hand rose to her mouth and before she knew it she was leaving the room.

She was outside in the cold air, but it wasn't so cold as the unfeeling metal of that room felt. The wind whistled sharply and blew a tree branch into the side of the building, making a repeating clicking sound. The innocent cry of rats dying and the clack, clack, clack of the rats trustingly licking up the poison she fed them was all she could hear in it.

Water dripped onto her hand. It wasn't raining and she realized it had been a tear. Crying? For rats, who she'd only ever seen as pests? How ridiculous.

She dabbed her tears and stepped back inside. She marked a simple tally of the dead in each cage, trying to distance herself from the individuals. It was a hundred percent to thirty percent efficiency scale. The fifty percent lethality had fallen on the fourth cage. She had predicted the third in her measurements. At least they hadn't died for nothing. She set her data table aside and started to clean up.

A small squeak sounded from the first cage as she was about to move the cage of dead rats. It sounded to her like a call of distress. An outlier? She looked closer at the cage. No. A rat crawled out from a tucked away nest of wood shavings where it had remained sleeping in the corner this whole time as his comrades grew cold and stiff. He scurried from body to body squeaking in panic, nudging all of them in an effort to get them to stir. She was about to reach in and take him out when she heard the clink of the water dispenser. Her heart raced and she pulled the rat from the cage. It was too late, that was the strongest dose and he had already licked up the water. She felt the rat's breathing grow faster and he struggled to get out of her hands. His eyes squinted and then closed. She cupped the small ball of fur tightly in her hands; she could still feel the tiny thump of his heart.

"Did you not drink any after all?" She asked the rodent. His eyes were clamped shut with pain and his muzzle wet with water still. "No?" She mused. Perhaps he was an outlier after all. It had already been several dozen times longer than it had taken for the others to die, still he held on, whimpering softly now.

She set him on a clean bed of wood shavings in a small cage. Odds were it would only take longer to kill him, but perhaps not. She wasn't quite sure why she cared so much, but she hoped desperately that he would beat those odds and make it through.

...

Gin had been sleeping alone again for the few days Sherry's sister stayed in town. He had expected those nights to be more restful without her to spark the feeling of alarm on the odd occasion. Like it had been the few nights after they first got back from the Isle of Mermaids. He was wrong. He'd grown accustomed to the sound of her breathing and the way her weight dipped the mattress. The alarm now was waking in the night to find her missing.

He was glad to see her when he walked in his apartment. It felt both natural and surreal for her to be there. He was uncertain for a moment if she was truly there, or if it was only his desire playing tricks with his lack of sleep.

She was sitting at the edge of the bed, with only a loose sweater draped over her small frame. It was slipping off one of her bare shoulders, and seemed only to be there for him to take off.

He sunk down on his back next to her, finding the surface unlevel to a small degree.

"I've missed you," she said, scooting back to lay next to him.

He propped himself up on an elbow and reached out to touch her shoulder. Her skin was soft like the satin of a flower petal, and more importantly, truly there. "Akemi's visit over?"

"I put her on a plane this morning."

"And you haven't grown suddenly fond of your own apartment have you?"

She shook her head coyly.

"Good." He pulled her against him, breathing in the scent of her.

"You seem tired," she said, two of her fingers running vague circles on the arm he'd secured over her. "I should let you sleep."

"But?" he responded to the hesitation in her voice.

"I need to hear your voice." There was something desperate in her tone, almost as though she may cry. "It's been a hard couple of days." He felt her tighten an arm around where he held her, another hand still running what now seemed anxious circles about his forearm. It was an odd request from her, and he found himself feeling an anger that he wasn't sure where to direct.

"And what should I say?" His voice dragged, almost entirely composed of the deep vibrations in his chest now. He felt himself succumb somewhat to the exhaustion he'd been pushing off, and relax now that he had the soft rhythm of her breathing in his arms. It made little sense that his guard loosened more with her than it had been when he was alone, but still, the tension in his back fell slack.

"Just words." She breathed. "A story will work," her fingers found a raised red line on his forearm and paused as though she was considering picking at it. "You still haven't told me about your scars."

She had asked about the various old injuries on his skin that first night they'd spent together. She was surprised at how many she found and had commented that she thought after finding so many that each new one she stumbled on surely must be the last. It never was. He'd quelled her questions then, saying it wasn't the time.

Gin thought of orders, of marks killed, of the unexpected leading to complications, of the lengths they'd gone to in order to keep each operation a secret. He had never wasted time remembering which scar belonged to which assignment, and certainly avoided recalling the identities of targets past completion of the task.

"At fifteen," Gin began, trying to think of an occasion where he hadn't been tasked to eliminate a target, "I was assigned a scouting task at some ski slope in the mountains. I remember being rather annoyed at the snowfall because the flakes would stick to my hair and melt. It dampened my hair, and made it cling and freeze against my face, which made me that much colder. I had to wait out in the snow in the middle of the night, which is why that mattered. It was black out, and I was waiting for a specific person to leave the lodge and go to their car. At which point I was to inform another operative who was going to pull up in time to help jump their car. The goal of the mission was to stage a meeting between a highly important politician and one of our undercover agents with an alias we aimed to gain a higher status for. So, there I was waiting when the snow picked up. It was too heavy in the blackness for me to see the lodge door properly, which is when I had to get out from my hiding spot and tredge through the falling snow."

"That sounds beautiful, like lace against the night sky." She hummed sleepily.

"You would say that." He smiled. "I felt my way to the stone wall edging the veranda and ducked under the light. Quite by coincidence I overheard a member of the team I was working with conspiring with a nonmember, though I didn't know their identities and only placed them by the subject of their conversation. They planned to make an opportunity of the stranded and isolated politician. Obviously, I couldn't use the radio to warn the team. I went through with my part as planned; informing the team when the politician left. I knew where those two would be and so could surprise them."

"And that's when you were injured?" she mumbled into the sheet, perhaps only somewhat conscious now.

"Not quite. The scars came from a third traitor I hadn't known about, who got me a couple times with the sharp end of a shovel." Gin had thought he was only a bystander shoveling the walkway.

"And then?" it came out with an inhale of breath. The sort of question a person nodded back out of sleep to ask.

"That's it." He brushed a hand over the back of her head. "An explanation for a few of the scars."

"But not the end of the story."

"No?"

"Well, what happened? You left off fighting in the snow." She yawned. "... I think."

"I was knocked out a little while in the snow of the parking lot, and the operative who was meeting the politician handled the rest. It was a success, and he ended up saving him from trouble, as planned."

"The men who double-crossed you, the...?"

"The traitors." He stated bluntly.

She nodded weakly, and almost seemed to fall asleep. Her breathing fell into an even pattern, and she didn't stir.

"With the intent to gain the other man's trust he played vigilante and turned them over to the police." He left a long pause and she still didn't stir. "It wasn't until later that they were taken care of." The gentle exhale of her breath filled the room, and he could feel her stomach expand under his arm with the rhythm of sleep. He spoke to the silence. "It was better than they deserved. An immediate death suits a traitor."


	28. Final Arc (4)

Chapter 28

Mid-day sunlight overheated her sleeping face and finally dragged her from the world of dreams. She had intentionally overslept and by the time she arrived at the labs the others were just breaking for lunch. If they were curious about her uncharacteristic lateness such thoughts were well masked behind respectful expressions.

She was once again alone before the sterile room. The harsh scent of chemical cleaner assaulted her nose, obviously used to mask the reek and rot of death. A watery reflection of blue light washed over the still wet countertops. The colored effect came from the aquarium that used the light to highlight the otherwise translucent bodies of jellyfish. Their rounds slowed as she drew near and they bundled closer to one another as if to converse among themselves and whisper their accusations.

Sherry stopped when she reached a small cage off to the side of the room that she had instructed those under her not to process with the others. The lab techs had been the ones to perform the needed necropsies, as she'd been unable. Her expertise wasn't in forensic pathology besides, veterinary or otherwise. She took a breath and looked inside, sure that she would simply find one more rat she had killed. Her eyes fell over an empty cage and she had to scan the small space again.

A tiny pink nose poked out of a burrowed nest in the corner. A very tiny pink nose.

She scooped out a handful of bedding from the corner, overestimating the size of the rat she was trying to pick up. A baby rat stirred from the pile of wood shavings, twitching its nose about to find its way, its eyes still firmly shut. She shifted the remaining wood shavings about, finding the cage truly empty apart from its single occupant. She sat down at a stool and studied the little rat, her mind whirling with questions.

It had reversed its biological clock just like the immortal jellyfish. _How?_ She glanced up at the tank. The blue light from the tank shone down across her features. Their bodies blinked silently in that same way they always did, but did not relinquish their secrets. _Why did it happen to this particular rat?_ She examined his body closely. His nose ran and his shut eyes had crusts in the corners. He was sick. _Was he sick before, or was it because of the poison? _Perhaps his sickness was why he had been sleeping before when all the others had died. She thought back to his behavior just before he'd taken the poison. Distress, anxiety, stress.

A theory formed. That jellyfish she'd watched revert back had been distressed at the time as well. Perhaps the chemicals released during stress were the trigger, or something similar to do with an organism's reaction to sickness. She placed the baby rat back in the cage.

This was a noteworthy breakthrough in the Silver Bullet project, but she didn't have any of her files on the project to record it. Even if she did though, she wasn't quite sure she would have recorded it. She didn't want to give them the answer they wanted, despite having spent the vast majority of her life working toward that very goal.

Sherry monitored the baby rat over the next several weeks as she continued work on the poison, but never wrote any findings down. She planned to tell any lab tech who asked that one of the rats from the trials before had given birth, but none of them did.

Life fell back into routine; she would leave for the lab in the mornings, met up with Gin sometime in the afternoon, come back to work for a few hours before clocking out. It was comfortable. Almost enough that some days she could forget the project she was developing was a poison. That was until one morning reminded her that it wasn't something she should keep allowing herself to forget.

It hadn't seemed like a morning out of the ordinary until she stepped through the front doors of the drug company where the labs were located. A thick black-garbed arm pulled her aside, sternly redirecting her path to a different hallway than she would need to get to the labs. His grip wasn't particularly painful, but fighting it would have been as impossible as moving a brick wall. His silent presence loomed over her, and his dark tinted glasses guarded any humanizing expression of his eyes. His mouth was a thin line between a heavily squared jaw, and did not offer any reassurances either.

"What's your division? Under whose authority are you acting?" She demanded. Her voice was much more confident than she felt really.

"I'm not here to answer questions." His tone wasn't entirely as unsympathetic as his appearance, and he quickly relented, offering her an answer despite his previous claim. "Today's orders were orchestrated under the direction of that person."

"I'm under Gin's supervision, why wasn't he the one to relay my instructions or direct my movements?"

"I'm not under orders to inform you of other operatives movements." He asserted, evidently trying to sound more firm this time.

"But that's not to say you don't know yourself."

Silence.

She gave an exasperated huff. "What is your codename then? You must be of some decent rank if you've been tasked with taking me whatever it is we're going."

She thought for a moment that she might as well have been speaking to that brick wall he'd made her think of before.

"Vodka." He supplied, not looking down to the side where she walked next to him.

"And what's my codename, Vodka?"

His bafflement was evident in his expression despite the large portion of it that had been blocked by the glasses. "A scientist with a codename?"

"Not too highly ranked then."

He jerked his whole body to glance at her with a confused scowl that creased the lines of his broad face. Silence followed the abnormal emotional reaction; he actively sealed his lips together so she couldn't trick any more information from him. That must have been the reason for the sunglasses, he was too emotionally reactive and easily read. It was an atypical trait in an organization member because they valued secrecy so much, and it intrigued her, making her wonder what skills he must possess to make that liability worth the risk.

"What are the orders for today then?" She asked as they came to the end of the hall.

He wordlessly opened the back exit of the building and gestured for her to step through and into the van parked there. The drive was silent, and their arrival at the destination ever more so. She was escorted into the lobby of an office building where they passed a receptionist who was studiously avoiding looking up at them. The continuous clack clack of keys on the keyboard felt unnatural, the timing was off somehow, like she was only pretending to have something to type. They passed three or four more pairs of eyes that did not meet theirs but seemed to follow them after they were by. Next, they stepped onto an open floor of cubicles that sat empty like it was the weekend and not midweek, except the buzzing panel lights overhead were on and the heat of running computers stifled the air. Vodka sat down at a desk chair and gestured for her to do likewise.

"What are we waiting for?" Sherry asked, not taking his silent instruction. His head was turned to watch the doors, though the dark glasses made it difficult to tell where he was truly looking. "What are our orders?" She nearly yelled.

"Shh," His head whipped toward hers, and a hand reached out in her direction to silence her. "To be quiet, to sit, and to wait for orders to leave."

"What?"

"Your part is already done," he explained in a harsh whisper. "It's important that he not follow us in here." He continued his watch of the doors, his posture tense waiting for action.

"Who exactly is-" she was cut off by his gloved hand that had actually reached all the way to her mouth this time. The metallic taste of gunpowder and the smell of fabric softener rubbed onto her lips.

She flopped down on a desk chair and crossed her arms in wait.

...

Gin watched the front of an office building, waiting for their plan to unfold. He had been parked to survey the entrance for an hour now and the song of birds pierced the car's exterior and filled the silence of that time.

The high moan of a bush warbler's whistle sounded from some unseen place nearby in increasingly irritating increments. It was a low whistle that subtly built and cut off on a slightly shrill note. In spring, the whistle in its call crescendoed into a shutter of chirps. In winter, the abrupt stop to building notes without a resolution left the listener to do the shuttering.

That particular bird was alternatively known by the name 'the bird that announces the coming spring'. After an hour of the same abruptly ending whistle Gin was more than tempted to shoot the little herald wherever he was hiding.

Finally the first of the plan came to motion. Sherry and Vodka stepped through the entrance of the office building. Gin was mostly there to monitor and intersect in the event of something going awry, although missions to control intelligence rarely turned so badly. A tall figure in a knitted cap strode along the same route a few seconds after them. The building's front door closed behind the traitorous Rye as per the plan. He had followed the tracker Vermouth found on Sherry's coat perhaps a month and a half ago, and if all went to plan he would act as he had before and inform the rival syndicate of this location where stock was held as well. The FBI was trying to stir up conflict between the two groups, probably to manufacture an opening for them to strike the Organization themselves.

Gin was occupied spying on the interior of the lobby with binoculars, where Vermouth disguised as Sherry was giving Rye an easy target to follow, when a bulky figure passed in front of the scope's view. He lowered the binoculars and saw an all too familiar group stalking Rye.

Now that was troublesome. The Organization hadn't planned to have that group come to the location until later. It shouldn't even have been a possibility. That person would have never allowed a plan where their rivals and Sherry might intercept. That person wouldn't even allow Rye to follow Sherry herself while in the building. The boss had insisted that after Sherry - whom Rye was already keeping surveillance on, and so her role could not be cut out entirely - lured him to the building that they make a switch with Vermouth, even though this was only supposed to be a mission to set up a trap. The problem was they had expected the FBI agent to behave as before and trail her to an Organization hideout alone. It wouldn't make sense for him to bring along the other syndicate while Sherry was still at the location, because he wouldn't want to see her hurt. Counting on the moral code of a traitor and double agent was faulty logic as it turned out.

Damn, this was going to be a lot messier than they had planned. Gin unholstered his gun, and headed for the building.

...

Two bangs sounded in a distant part of the building, another two followed almost as though they were an echo. Sherry whipped her head toward the sound and at the same time was yanked up out of her chair by her arm and into a dead run for the room's exit.

Gunfire resounded in sporadic bursts, but no voices screamed in terror, no footsteps trampled their way to safety. Each shot felt intentional, like she was listening to a firework show.

She was too caught up in listening to the distant fight, looking back over her shoulder, that she didn't notice the stairs until she tripped down the first of them. Vodka's large hand caught her upper arm just below her shoulder and continued with his quick pace once she was stable. It was the first time in her startled state that she thought of the person pulling her behind him, rather than just the force nearly jerking her shoulder from its socket. He had been muttering about some group being early and overeager.

He stopped only a moment to scan the lobby. A stench like rusted metal and a dirty bathroom struck her before he yanked her after him once again. There was smoke in the air and blood on the floor. A very distant part of her mind recognized some of the faces among the dead as ones she'd seen month and months ago. The receptionist was cowering in a tight ball under the heavy wooden desk and Sherry caught the hint of a suppressed whimper before being wrenched through the doors.

The same van from before screeched onto the road before the building, parking by the curb across the street. They ran to it, away from the building.

"The hell is going on!" She jerked her arm free of his iron grip before they reached it.

"Get in the van!" he reached out to grab her. She jumped back, surprising herself with her quickness.

There was a small flare of orange light inside the building they'd run from. And then a much, much larger one that engulfed everything.

She didn't see anything past the bright flash, not then in that moment. Didn't think on the wall of the blast crashing into the countless people she'd seen inside, like a heavy ocean wave sweeping out their legs. Didn't think on the heat scorching flesh and bone, or the panic that had barely a fraction of a moment to manifest before all conscious thought was snuffed from the building.

She saw, she thought, only of the unfolding cluster of fire expanding out and consuming her whole field of vision with its intensity. In that moment, she was a long stalk of seaweed, firmly rooted but thrashed easily out with the shock. Before her a massive rock sunk to the seafloor and unsettled a thick cloud obscuring the previously clear water. Small rocks and shells sailed past her out of the mucked water.

In reality, the bits of debris blown from the explosion's plume were flaming. Liquid fire spilled out across the ground in front of the building.

She was pulled backwards, not by the shock wave now, but a thick hand with squared fingers. The heavy door slammed before her, but the sound was dwarfed in comparison to the static roar that had just blown out her ears. Her entire chest shook with heavy breaths as the van sped away from the burning building.

...

Vermouth watched the explosives they'd set detonate with a fair amount of satisfaction. Events hadn't unfolded exactly as she planned, but the results were close enough to what she had intended that she wasn't really worried about the accelerated time frame.

She did start to sweat a moment when she first noticed Gin inside the building. She was disguised as Sherry standing in front of the elevator in the lobby, waiting for it to come down at the time. She was watching the watery reflection of the room on the elevator's closed doors when she spotted him. Gin must have thought it fit to intervene because those goons had tailed the FBI agent Akai Shuichi and so were early. They were less of a problem than Gin might have proven. There wasn't a question in her mind who Gin's first shot would be if she left it up to him to begin the firefight.

Gin's first shot would be Akai, undoubtedly. Not only was he a traitor and the ex-member Rye, he was no longer any use to them. Furthermore, of those Gin could expect return fire from, Akai was probably the best trained and best shot and therefore the most risk.

Vermouth got a feel on the miniature pistol concealed in her coat sleeve and eyeballed approximately where she would need to aim in the room from the reflection. Two men of intimidating stature but dull sheeplike expressions stood near the front desk not far from Akai. Akai himself leaned against the desk as though he could be talking with the desk clerk whose hands shook at the keys she would not look up from. It was a warped scene and not just from the distorting metal doors she saw it through; everyone's mundane actions inherently a mockery, even her own.

She turned and fired at the two she'd singled out. Akai and the receptionist dove behind the protection of the desk with a speed that spoke of his expectation of her shots. She hadn't had the time to think of that particularity as the fight broke out. Gin was the next to fire taking out two more of their rivals as they drew their guns. A few of their rivals ran for the halls and protection of the first floor, others returned fire at Gin.

In the entire exchange Akai never ran to protect her despite the fact that she was quite convincingly disguised as Sherry. It was Gin's assumption that he would make some effort that ultimately let him slip away.

Vermouth thought on the strangeness of Akai's behavior now as she watched the fire clean up their mess. A distant siren wailed and she turned to go. Perhaps it wasn't just Gin who could see through her disguises. It was time to start a new study then, and figure out what it was she needed to adjust.

...

It was long after the other scientists left, and Sherry sat alone typing on her computer, where she hadn't budged since early morning. They'd brought her back to the labs after the explosion. The driver had been hesitant to leave her in her state, but Vodka sighted the original plan arguing the instructions were for them to bring her back to the labs. She'd agreed with Vodka's argument only because she had desperately wanted to exit the van at the time. Once there, she hadn't regained the frame of mind to drive home.

Now she was alone. Even the fluorescent overhead lights had ceased their buzzing and called it a night before her, abandoning her to the deep shadows that obscured the details of the room and filled its corners. The colored backlights of the jellyfish tanks cast a diluted glow across the metal surface of nearby countertops, but other than that only the harsh white light of her screen illuminated the space.

She hardly saw the figures and equations she punched in, and the click of the keys had stopped registering hours before. When she closed her eyes all she could see was the burning flash of bright light against the back of her eyelids. Like an intensified version of the afterglow of the computer screen in the dark before her.

The typing stopped a moment and she skimmed over her work for errors. These weren't just empty symbols and she knew it. It was a weapon. A weapon she was creating and they would use on their enemies and perceived enemies alike.

She rested her arms on the bitterly cold counter surface and dug her chin into the corner of her elbow. She tried to squeeze away the tears from staring at the bright screen in the dark, and her eyes squinted closed like the those of the dying lab rats. Still, she didn't turn off the screen of blaring light, gazing into it endlessly between blinking away tears.

...

Akai stared as the building he'd left behind him burst out with the force of the explosion. Evidence and leads all engulfed in flame at once leaving him and his team at the FBI with nothing. The member's of the Organization in Black had scattered and he could no more catch or follow them as he could grab hold of the smoke fading out on the wind. Though he felt the frustration of desperately wanting to try. It was the same hopeless feeling he'd had when he came back to Akemi's barren apartment and knew in an instant that trying to follow her would be the death of her.

He did the only thing left to do. He texted his boss at the FBI.

The last of the leads from our initial infiltration just blew up in our face. Drawing back our efforts until new leads surface. I remain in Japan until further notice.

He snapped the phone closed and turned his back on the black smoke billowing out of his latest failure.

...

Sherry startled awake with a sharp inhale of breath when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Gin." She jerked her head up to face him, her heart flittering with the fast pace of a bee's wings. She forced herself to prop the rest of the way up. Every part of her was uncomfortably heavy from the position she had slept.

"They said they'd closed down shop for the night after everyone left." The line of his mouth was taut. Just behind him the blinds on a window had been slanted open and revealed the first blue shades of dawn touching the edge of the horizon. "To find you _here_ after searching bloody everywhere-" He looked singularly angry; his body rigid and his face cast in a heavy scowl. It kept her rush of adrenaline up. She could feel how wide her eyes stretched. With the disorientation of just waking, she sprang to her feet, but immediately fumbled on her stiff and uncoordinated legs.

He caught her forearms. "Stop. Slow down." The undersides of her arms were cold to the touch from sleeping on the metal countertop. She noticed this now at the stark difference in temperature between her arms and his hot grip. He helped her to a stool and she refound her balance with a grip on the counter's edge. Its surface hadn't grown warmer by even a degree from her sleeping on it.

"I was up late working." She mumbled to the ground. "I must have fallen asleep."

"You've never worked late before. How could you not think to call after the encounter we just had? Do you have any idea what I thought-"

"Sorry." The word was empty. Her gaze drifted to the slits of early light shining in dusted bars across the concrete floor. "I wanted to finish it, because of what happened." The sentiment tasted false, although the words were not entirely untrue. Only how she made them sound like she meant. As though she desired to complete it so they could use it. In truth, she wanted to finish that poison only as much as she wanted to be done with it entirely.

He tilted his head to find where she'd turned her face. They knew each other well enough to know when the other's words were as plainly false as those.

"What happened then? What did you see?" He asked finally.

"That is the question, isn't it? 'What did I see?'" She felt like she was trying to breath in with a closed throat. A high thin moan echoed in her mind, more felt than audible. "What does it matter now? I didn't see anything more than I already knew, you could say." Yesterday was only a vivid reminder to her of the true nature of the Organization.

"You're being intentionally cryptic now." Gin said.

"There was someone missing from their ranks in that exchange, but I don't need to tell you that."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Back on the Isle of Mermaids, when you went back. You killed him, didn't you? Like you killed that professor after I'd left before. But it wasn't because it was your job, or because he was a threat, was it?" She searched his eyes for regret, for remorse. And found only ice. He was past feeling and unreceptive.

Gin was so broken, it was in that moment she realized he didn't feel it anymore. Death had no depth to him. His cold exterior ran through and through and he had turned to some unfeeling substance, like the steel counters in the lab; indifferent to the work they were used to accomplish.

"You knew. When-?"

A pang of sadness started to weigh on her. _That was his reaction._ Only surprise at her knowledge. This was perhaps the worst part. "I had my suspicions that was your job in the Organization from the beginning. You didn't actually think I believed that bit about acting as bodyguards on that first assignment? Two codenamed members for that purpose is laughable." She was still searching his eyes, with a vain and desperate hope. "It wasn't something that I learned at a specific point, only something I guessed at and tried to pretend wasn't true. I didn't want to know you were killing people for them at the same time we were growing close. So I didn't, but now..."

A silence sat over the room. Gin stared out the window for a time before meeting her eye. "You think I've killed too many people for you to ignore."

"It's not the number of people you've killed Gin. It's that if you were to go back and do it all again you wouldn't change a damn thing."

There was so much more she wanted to say, more she needed to argue out, words she didn't want to regret leaving unsaid. But this wasn't a conversation anymore and that was part of the problem.

He wasn't saying anything. Nothing important anyway. He hardly seemed to respond. He had to know what this meant. He was too smart not to. _How could he know and not care? Why wouldn't he respond?_

She was abandoning the hope she'd held out for him and he looked the same as ever.

Desperation clawed at her in the silence they left, the silence it was getting harder to break with every moment that passed.

"Gin," she said exhaling out all the breath she'd been holding. "I've loved- I was starting to love- I- I've lost you. I can't keep- " she took a breath to regain composer. "This is goodbye Gin. An end of it."

She snapped the screen of the laptop closed. The click was remarkably loud in the thick silence of the room. Her retreating steps sounded soft in comparison, but were made harsher by the absence of his long strides following after.


	29. Final Arc (5)

Chapter 29

Gin walked along a windswept park trail. The bitter breeze slapped against his face as it had on the many occasions he'd waited in the area before, though he wasn't there to wait for a companion today.

The first buds were starting to form on the mess of cross-hatching tree branches overhead. It altered the familiar shapes of the trees; knotting the backdrop he had grown accustomed to in the previous weeks. This park had become a favored location to meet up with Sherry in the afternoon, but the season for afternoons like that had passed.

He had let it pass. It wasn't as though 'goodbye' was as inevitable as the end of winter. But, the way she'd looked at him then, like a favorite mug that had slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor; like she was still lying to herself about how she could glue the pieces back together. He couldn't bare it.

His shoe snagged on a dried twig that had fallen on the path and he came to his surroundings again. There was a woman walking towards him whom he hadn't noticed until then. He cursed his distracted state turning to address the fast-approaching party.

It was Akemi Miyano, Sherry's sister. She should have been out the country. He wondered if Sherry knew her sister was back in Japan.

"Gin?" She had a tight grip on the strap of the bag on her shoulder, and the lines of her body were tense, her expression serious. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Regarding?" He asked. Compared to her, his posture was relaxed. And Gin was never at ease in public.

"My sister." her mouth was taught. _Suppressing the anxiety of talking with him? Or was it anger?_ Gin was having a hard time caring regardless.

"Then I doubt it." He turned to walk away.

She sprinted to cut him off, standing firmly in his path. _It wasn't fear then. _

"We do."

Her coming to this park meant she'd predicted the movements of a member whose rank was so far above her that, were it not for the unusual situation of their first encounter, she would never have even had the opportunity to know of his existence. "How did you know to wait for me here?"

"I figured it was a drop or meeting location. I followed her to this location once, I assume to report to you. You are the one in charge of her work aren't you?"

He nodded.

"It is my understanding that the Organization has acted against the wishes of my late parents, voiding their guardianship of my sister that was contingent on compliance to certain wishes voiced before their passing."

"What does it matter? She's a legal adult now."

"But at the time when she gained membership of the Organization, she would have needed consent from a legal guardian, which the Organization could not have granted her without losing their position as said legal guardian. They then would be without the pull to give her permission in the first place. It is a legal paradox, as per the terms of my parents' will." She smiled reaching her ultimate point. "The membership of my sister to your Organization is, therefore, null."

"Legally," he shrugged the information off. The Organization only thought of itself as a business or legally bound entity when they wanted to use some advantage it could offer them. "What is it you thought you could do with this information?"

"I want out. I want my sister out. She isn't bound to you. Not really. I want you to let her leave." She had only grown more determined as she spoke, sure she had the winning hand of the argument.

"Heh," he tucked his hands in his pockets. "It's not going to happen. You can understand why the Organization wouldn't exactly consider itself bound by legal tethers." He scrunched his coat to flash where his gun was concealed within.

She startled back, taking the threat as he'd intended. He walked past her, a frown settling on his features. The idea of losing Sherry again twisted something sour in his stomach.

'_She wasn't bound to him,' was it? _ His mind circled back to her words. _She hadn't ever been. 'Not really.' _

Gin came to a river stone retaining wall and regarded the signs of coming spring in the park; small patches of new growth and the sharp points of ground flowers cutting out from the soil.

He knew what Sherry would choose, and it wasn't the Organization. It wasn't him.

...

She couldn't bring herself to touch the cold steel countertops in the lab today. Sherry walked down the aisle between them holding her stomach and looking over the shoulders of scientists working under her.

It wouldn't be long before they had a completed prototype of the toxin and all she could do was stand back and watch it come together. Soon enough working itself became the easy part. If she had a task to do than she could quiet her mind of the bigger picture. It was when she had an absence of something to do that she was reminded of how alone and trapped she truly was now.

Lying awake at night her mind would wonder. She couldn't let herself think about the poison, not without breaking down entirely. Instead, her thoughts came to Gin. Thoughts of the months before, how she fit in his arms, the weave of fabric on his coat running beneath her fingers, the feel of his hands through her hair.

Her body remembered how it felt to be held, wrapped in his warmth. To feel the soft heat of his skin against hers. It left the bed sheets feeling too flat and barren.

She worked late nights, perfecting the toxin, running trials and studies until she could come home tired enough that the bed felt welcoming once more.

And then her circadian rhythm would adjust and she would be staring up at the ceiling again thinking of all his different types of smiles; his grin when a plan of his went through perfectly; his smirk when he was flirting and teasing her; the slight dazed smile she caught sometimes when he looked at her. Then she would remember how her chest burned with joy when they were together, and when she saw him smile. Thoughts of him consumed her until all she could picture was a sadistic smile twisting his features, making them foreign to her, dark and cruel.

Then she would work later and chase away thoughts of him with equations and formulas and data tables.

...

The preliminary batch of the toxin was completed, and Gin had been putting off going to pick it up and checking in with its progress in person all day. In wasn't that he didn't want to see Sherry. In fact, he ached to be near her. The thought of going to meet with her brought about a physical longing in his chest. That was part of the problem. If he saw her all he would want to do was hold her, and that was the very last thing she wanted now.

The idea of holding her spiraled unhelpfully in his thoughts as he drove to the labs. The route was automatic, and it made focusing on driving rather impossible. He remembered the first of many mornings he woke to her sleeping face. The memory wasn't significant because she had looked particularly peaceful or beautiful, although her soft face had certainly been wonderful to look at. He had truly fallen asleep next to her, and for a moment had trusted her more than he once thought it was wise to trust anyone. And even at that realization he had only smiled and pulled her closer, tucking her head against his chest.

He pulled his car into a space in front of the drug company where the labs were located. It was late enough in the day that she might have already gone home for the day. He wasn't sure if he was hoping for her to be there or not at this point.

Most of the lights in the building were off, excepting one. He opened the lab's door to find Sherry still awake and working. She didn't seem to notice his entrance.

"Made late nights a habit then?" He asked. He had expected her to startle at his sudden presence. She didn't, she also didn't look up from her work.

"The case is on the counter there." A steel briefcase rested on the countertop closest to the door. He stepped passed it, toward where she worked in the far back corner.

"You aren't required to work this late." Gin said.

"You said you would be here today," she sighed looking up for the first time. "You're the one who is late." She went back to looking into her microscope. Several slides were laid out across the counter by her. The only recognizable sample appeared to be a hair.

"These from the rat test group then?" He asked stepping closer. She startled at his presence this time and looked up in time to see him reaching out to grab a glass slide. She swatted his hand away in a near protective gesture.

"It will all be in the report, Gin." She glared at him, waiting for him to leave. This expression was perhaps worse than before when she looked on him like some broken thing in need of mending. She'd given up on that; given up on him.

He obliged to her wishes and left, taking the case on his way out.

...

Inside the steel case were twelve red and white capsules of the prototype poison. Gin's assignment was comprised of a list of twelve corresponding names. They were the identities of those their rivals had recently contracted in order to acquire the needed resources to attack the Organization. The list consisted of mostly civilians with little to no previous connection to the criminal underworld; doubtless their rival's own targets of extortion.

It was quick work. The type of work that had to be done, but Gin did not want to put much thought into or remember in detail after the fact. One by one the padded spaces within the case emptied, and the task was complete.

Gin ducked into his car and nodded to Vodka who was waiting in the passenger seat.

"That was the last name on the list, correct?" Gin asked, pulling out his keys. He had just used the last of the poison capsules so it should have been.

Vodka didn't immediately confirm and the sound of light rain on the car's roof filled the space. He wouldn't need to look down at a physical list to know. It was why he made such an ideal secretary, no paper trail out in the field.

"Not exactly." Vodka said eventually. "The first target, that company president who was smuggling in weapons for our rivals got away. That was when we had a run in with that detective who had been causing trouble for the Organization."

"We're short one capsule now then." Gin surmised. His gaze settled on a drop of rain falling in a slow stream down the window glass. It had rained that night as well, later in the evening. He thought back to the events before then, to the blackmail threat they'd used to lure out the company president. He could still picture the greasy man clearly, but that detective brat they caught spying on the transaction, he was only a hazy memory now. Focusing on it, Gin could recall that he'd ended up as the first victim of the poison rather than the company president whom that capsule was intended for. Still, the specifics of his face were harder to settle on.

"I'll contact the labs and have them prepare another batch." Vodka said as a matter of course.

"Good," Gin confirmed when he realized his subordinate was waiting for affirmation for something. He had barely heard him, his focus was still in the past. Or what little he could remember of those events.

A drop of rain collected with another and raced down the glass all at once. He shirked off the attempt to remember events best left in the past and started up the car.

...

It was the following day before Gin realized the inevitable repercussions of calling into the labs for another batch. Everything clicked when he saw Sherry's furious face barge into his office, and he understood his mistake even before she slammed a thick stack of papers onto his desk. Twelve names he was trying hard to forget were lined up in a neat column on the top document; the very twelve names of people he'd used her drug to kill.

"That was an incomplete batch of the drug, meant for trials. Not for killing random civilians." She was fuming, leering down at him across the desk.

"It was ready enough, we needed to send a message they would receive." Gin said, trying to remain clinical. He was, however, having a hard time keeping his gaze from falling to the hit list she'd slapped in front of him. "Consider this your test batch."

"Innocent civilians, that's your test group?" The unrestrained fury in her voice brought his attention back to her.

"They were pawns of our rivals, not innocent bystanders." Gin explained firmly. "It was a show of power needed to end the conflict."

"It was an unwarranted massacre."

"It worked." He snapped. "You were creating a poison. What did you think was going to happen?"

Uncomfortableness moistened in the air as Gin immediately realized this was entirely the wrong thing to say. Her eyes, already watery from her yelling at him, swelled with tears, and her jaw quaked. She fought them off looking down to the side. He hesitated, and she let the silence fill the space between them.

" I was doing my job." Gin said with a breath. "Those were the orders."

"So that's it then." She said softly, her words echoing her silence tears. "You would kill people, dozens and dozens of innocent people, for _them_." Her voice found a sudden venom with that last word. She looked up to stare straight into his eyes. "Without question."

"You speak like you're not part of the organization. Sherry."

She sunk upon hearing him call her by her codename. Her shoulders fell with her expression and it was clear that she felt the weight of that codename for perhaps the first time since she received it.

She sprang back at him, her expression changing and her voice in near-violent sobs. "And you speak like you're not even human!"

"You're going to cause trouble for yourself if you keep speaking against the Organization like this." He warned her. He stood, placing his palms solidly on the desk, and searched her eyes sincerely. Her words were becoming dangerous for her own sake.

"I expect I will."

"What do you hope to accomplish with your defiance? Don't you ever think these things through?" He walked around the desk to her. "Leaving the organization is just another of your romantic notions. An impossible fantasy. A wanton dream you can never see realized. There _is_ no leaving." There was unfaltering loyalty, or there was death. Brandy's death had proven that.

She squeezed out a bitter expression; her face was turned and her eyes closed as she spoke. "Then you can add my codename to your _list_, but I won't be used to kill more innocent people."

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She flinched away from his touch and a familiar jerk within him yanked after her. It was that same feeling from before, like they were connected by threads. He felt it first when Sherry flinched away from Brandy's touch in that alley, but he hadn't fully understood what it was then. That came with time as he felt a growing need to protect her. The understanding of this was doubly hurtful now as it was him whom she needed protection from.

She snatched the list off the top of the stack. "I'll be halting all work towards completing the poison to investigate its effects on the people from the trials."

Gin didn't look up to meet her face. "We have a low ranking crew that confirms hits, there isn't a need for you to do this yourself."

"No. I played a part in the death of each of these people and I'm going to account for each and every one of them." She was struggling to be strong and immovable on this point; fighting to be strong and immovable standing up to him. It was a painful realization. "Now step aside, and let me do my job." She walked away from him again, and he just stared off to the side of the room as she left, uncertain of what he would even stop her to say.

...

The glow of the backlit bar shelves shined through the liquid in Gin's glass and reflected its warm color onto the black slab of granite before him. Gin was sitting alone at a bar counter when Vermouth happened upon him, as she always did when he expressly did not want to see anyone, least of all her. She slipped behind the counter and considered the selection.

It was only a small bar tucked away in one of the Organization's buildings, but knowing Vermouth she would have something stowed away here of exceptional taste and expense. She set a glass bottle on the countertop and regarded him.

"Still moping over a girl?" She asked. "You, the compassionless killer."

He looked up from his glass of golden liquid, a malicious glint in his eyes, like she had just given him a good excuse to shoot her.

"Fine," she threw up a casual exasperated gesture, and slipped a cigarette from her inner jacket pocket, leaning across the counter towards him. "Continue to brood, but you're not going to succeed in drowning any memories. Consider alternatives to emptying the liquor cabinet. Your high tolerance to its poison makes this an exercise in futility, though no less pathetic." She slid the thin roll of paper into the pocket over his chest, then tossed a wave back at him as she walked away, already another smoke between her fingers, and the bottle of wine in her other hand.

She stopped at the door. "And Gin," she waited for his attention. "When you're ready to consider a vice that doesn't impede your ability to function, you know where to find me."


	30. Final Arc (6) Climax Ch

Chapter 30

Gin stood in a booth of the firing range shooting bullets more for the feel of it than actual practice at this point. There was something comforting about the way Gin's Beretta fit in his hand. It had long been a part of him, and everything about it from the force of its recoil, to the processes of loading it was as familiar as breathing.

It was the same gun his mentor had given him as a child, although it fit much better in his grasp now. Not all gun models accommodated left handed people and it had surprised Gin when his mentor explained that his Berretta would allow him better access to the safety and the magazine release from his left hand. He had always tried to hide the fact he was left-handed as a child, as he had been scolded from a young age when he went to use his dominant left hand, especially before important guests. It wasn't something he had expected someone as disinterested as his mentor came off at the time to see through, and he had denied it in reflex. The man refused to accept his protests however, and from that point on Gin's Berretta was an extension of his left hand.

Using such a familiar weapon afforded him a great deal of control, and it was that control and precision that Gin craved now.

Vodka had entered the firing range some time ago, although Gin had never acknowledged his presence. Vodka now stood awkwardly a ways behind him, waiting in all likelihood for a meeting they were supposed to be having. Gin fired off several more magazines worth of rounds before Vodka finally interrupted.

"Aniki," he stepped closer while Gin was reloading. "I have new information to report."

"Shoot," Gin instructed, impassive. He lined up his next shot.

"Critical information."

Gin lowered his gun. "Information from where?"

"The older Miyano girl's handler in Europe. She hasn't checked in with him in two weeks now. There haven't been any flags from her contacting those she was instructed not to speak with, but she is believed to be in Japan."

Gin shoved his gun into its holster and gestured for his heavy footed secretary to follow after him. Akemi being in Japan for any significant length of time was rather dangerous; her being in Japan unmonitored was even more so.

That FBI mole Akai made her a liability to the Organization when he chose to use her to infiltrate their ranks. At the discovery of Akai's true allegiance, the Organization moved her out of the country to study abroad. This was to avoid leaving her as a conduit the FBI could use to further pursue the Organization. They couldn't tie up that loose end entirely and simply eliminate the potential vulnerability because of Akemi's ties to Sherry. From Sherry's anxiety concerning her sister's welfare on the night Rye was discovered a traitor, that person judged that eliminating Akemi at that time could prove too costly to the development of Silver Bullet to be worth its benefits.

Her arrangement abroad was explained very clearly to Akemi; she had to check in with her handler twice a week, may not contact anyone who knew Akai in Japan or anyone in the FBI, and may only visit Japan after she'd informed the Organization that she was coming and for spans of time less than four days.

As soon as Vodka closed Gin's office door behind him Gin began speaking. "I spoke with her in person just over a week ago, if she remained in the country that entire time she has far exceeded the maximum amount of time she is permitted to be here. When we spoke, she was looking for an avenue for her and her sister to leave the Organization. Trying to slip through a legal loophole." Gin gathered a loose stack of legal documents from off his desk, briskly straightened them out, and offered them to Vodka. "If she was trying to be awarded custody of her sister she might have a case, especially against Brandy whom the Organization was using as her legal guardian on paper. However, what she is after can't be achieved through legal means, and so is of little consequence. But if leaving the Organization with her sister is the motive for her extended stay it is any other avenues she has sought to achieve her goal that we need to be wary of now."

Vodka thumbed through the documents, his high eyebrows and slightly open mouth betrayed his surprise. Digging up documents like this was work Gin always delegated to Vodka as his secretary and it was odd for him to be seeing paperwork he hadn't looked up himself.

"Her FBI lover, do we have eyes on him?" Gin asked.

Vodka shook his head and looked up from the papers. "He vanished after our last encounter and has not been spotted in Japan or America."

"Put a watch on her, if they make contact I need to be informed immediately. And find out what she is doing here and if she has spoken with her sister at all." Gin finished and gave a dismissive wave.

Vodka gave a curt nod and left.

Gin sat back in the chair behind the desk in his office, just as his mentor always had, at a slight diagonal so his hand could reach the drawer if the urge prompted him. It wasn't really his own habit, only a remembered tendency of the man who came before, that he had somehow fallen into today. He caught himself mirroring the behavior, like a child trying to fill another's role.

He had felt that way quite a lot in the years following his mentor's passing, but it had been closer to the truth then; he had been merely a child guessing at how his predecessor would proceed and leaning on the merits of the habits he recalled.

Gin had never seen a benefit to emulating what had almost seemed to him like dozing off in his youth. He pondered the strangeness of that particular practice again now. His mentor had been a man of action, a man whose value was in the heat of an operation, in deciding the best course to execute orders in a split moment's time. And yet, he spent hours just like this, leaning back in deep contemplation.

Gin considered his own set of problems, adding this new piece to the puzzle he was constantly working in his mind these days. Once they determined what level of damage had been done they could decide how to proceed. She was a liability to the Organization while she was here, and she made Sherry a liability as well, opening the possibility of contact between Sherry and the FBI. And with Sherry's recent penchant for irrational defiance, it was a harrowing time to put her in a position where her loyalty would need to be evaluated.

Sherry had always been willful and rather troublesome, but typically on a much more manageable scale. Her behavior now was nothing short of a death wish and if left to continue like this she would see it granted. He wouldn't lose her, not completely like this. For now, it seemed all he could do was keep her from self-destructing until the initial shock faded and she came to her senses. Akemi's vain attempts at severing Sherry and herself from the Organization would do anything but protect her sister as she hoped, and Gin wouldn't see her inadvertently put her sister in harm's way.

...

Sherry sat before her computer at the lab, making final adjustments to a document it pained her to even look at. The small black cursor flashed before her on the computer screen. She had just changed the last status from unknown to confirmed on the list of apotoxin victims, but the text cursor continued to flash unceasingly as if shouting to her that there was still more to type; that it knew that last change was a lie.

Kudo Shinichi was the only hit she hadn't been able to confirm with a body, but still, she typed in confirmed just like the others before sending the list on. Her heart pounded as the computer confirmed that the email had sent and she darted her eyes to either side expecting someone to catch her. Even feeling in her chest that it was the right thing to do, the muscles in her shoulders were tense at the lie.

She wanted to smile, to feel the lift of relief that at least one person had survived, but her nerves still shook within her. She stood, needing to step away from the monitor a moment and found herself standing in the corner of the lab where the small caged rat had been tucked away. The young rat paused in the cage and his eyes met hers before lowering his tiny pink nose in what her easily fooled eyes wanted to think was a nod of affirmation.

She felt a small seed of hope in her chest. The Organization wouldn't look for someone they believed to be dead. It was the only oath of silence they trusted completely. When it came to the Organization, confirmed dead was the safest place he could hide from them.

...

Gin looked down at the Tokyo city streets from a highrise window. The familiar view of city and traffic lights bleeding their colors across rain-soaked roads rested beneath him. The streets were far enough down that the noise of tires splashing across wet pavement was barely a distant murmur, still, the motion of the scene felt immediate and constant, like blood pumping its course through veins.

Gin had noticed a trend in the places that person liked to discuss future plans, always overlooking the city, somewhere high enough that the flow of people or cars seemed one mass, rather than a collection of smaller individuals.

"How is our progress against our current threats?" The boss asked, still watching the trends of the city below.

"I got confirmation today from the labs that our proto-poison took out all our rivals' pawns successfully, although we're still waiting on results on whether it was as untraceable as intended."

"Good, and how have our rivals reacted?"

"They finally realized that they stepped on the wolf's tail and are running up the white flag." Gin smirked. "They want an end to the fighting and request a meeting to ensure their safety if they back off."

The person breathed out in a sign of almost amusement, though didn't otherwise express pleasure at this news."What about our FBI problem? Have they fallen back as well?"

"Our eyes haven't seen Akai, but I'm sure the FBI will continue to pursue as they have been. They are a rather persistent enemy, not swayed by previous failure or a low likelihood of success. Probably due to their high ideals based on laws."

"You're correct I think." That person gook a moment to decide a following move. "Staying on the defensive won't win us any wars. The time for parrying blows is over; now is the time to strike swiftly and decisively."

"What are your orders?"

"We've kept a certain vulnerability to the Organization in hand for a while in order to use her as leverage later if the situation called for it. It seems now is the moment to do just that. "

"Akemi." Gin stated, rubbing at the back of his fist. He considered for a moment simply directing attention away from Akemi and dealing with her on his own, but a thought stopped this plan dead. The thought of Brandy. Hiding information, going around the chain of command, putting the wrong priorities first, that was exactly what Brandy had done and it had threatened the whole Organization. He had sworn he'd never let it happen again.

"She's become somewhat of an annoyance on her own lately and I doubt she'll cooperate with us," Gin began. "She came to Japan against orders a few weeks ago. We've kept surveillance, but she hasn't done anything but keep a normal nine-to-five job. She has contacted me a couple times though, most recently to buy her and her sister's way out of the Organization. She was hoping to sell information on the vulnerabilities of the bank she is working at in exchange."

"Interesting," the boss said looking back at Gin, probably studying him more than the information that had been said. For a moment, the cold feeling he usually got when Vermouth was watching him made him tense up his spine. "If we know what she wants then she'll be that much easier to move how we want."

Gin pressed his lips together in a hard line and tried to figure out why his gut feeling was not to use Akemi at this point. She was a liability to them, and she couldn't remain as she was forever. Still, something in him revolted against it. "She is certainly our best piece for leverage, but to take her out to draw in the FBI sees the risk of turning Sherry against us. That would be a significant risk to our ultimate goal."

"From what you said she has already put herself in play." That person answered easily, having already made a decision. "Either we use her, or our enemies will. She is a grenade with the pin already pulled. We can throw it or lose a hand, those remain our only options."

His stomach turned. With the way Sherry had been behaving toward the Organization lately, he knew this would be too much for her.

Gin continued his argument, even knowing it was too weak to stand against that person's mind already being made up. "A small victory over the FBI and a loss on your most important project seem a poor trade off."

He was too hesitant to move forward with this and that person could read it had more to do with something unsaid than the counterarguments made. Despite this, that person turned to look at the glass once more, and Gin felt the weight of the boss's eyes lift from him.

"Completing Silver Bullet may be a crucial step toward our ultimate goal, but it isn't the end goal itself," that person said. The boss's focus seemed to slip far away, and for a moment it was as if it didn't matter very much at all that it was Gin there listening to what was said.

Gin scratched at the back of his head. He was almost certain that person had said before that the Organization was framed on completing Silver Bullet, or something along those lines, but perhaps he had simply misunderstood.

"Immortality is only the bait," that person went on.

Immediately something in his head connected, something he already knew from years back. During several of the meetings between his father and that person that he had spied on as a child, they often mentioned 'the ones who started this', or 'the ones who made us this way.' He had puzzled out from the context that it usually referred to someone his father saw while spying on the government for the Organization.

"The ones who managed it in the first place, they're our target, aren't they?" Gin asked.

"They could never figure out what in the experiments made it happen, nor ever manage to replicate it. But they crave it more than anything and that will be their end." Fire burned behind that person's words from a deep hatred that time had never diminished. It was startling on someone whose expressions and opinions were often so subtle.

"Experiments?"

That person looked back at Gin distracted by his question for a moment. "I forget sometimes how much you don't know. Still, I think perhaps you know more of the Organization's ultimate goals than anyone who wasn't there at its founding. You overheard the Organization's greatest secrets before you knew there was an Organization, even if perhaps you never understood their significance until now." The boss seemed oddly pleased while saying this, which was terrifying because that person valued secrecy above all else. To be told he knew a lot of information almost felt like a threat.

"The people who don't age are the result of human experiments then?" Hesitantly, he sought clarification once more.

"That we are. During World War II a certain Unit 731 performed a string of particularly heinous pregnancy experiments among their many other vile studies of torture and the process of dying. On official records, all the pregnancies from the experiments were terminated or the resulting children killed. However, a handful of these experiments yielded a peculiar result that I'm sure you can guess."

Gin nodded solemnly, but that person didn't look his way, only continued on.

"That Unit is the dark truth behind why we know all sorts of medical knowledge. How long a human takes to lose a limb to frostbite or freeze to death, what happens when a person is missing an organ or limb and how long they have before they die, different stages and effects of many deadly diseases and infections. They were never punished for these war crimes and many went on to take positions of power in this country. And the U.S, self-proclaimed police of the world? They quietly traded them immunity from their crimes for their research. Medical knowledge and biological weapons were their main concern on paper of course."

"So that was why the Organization was formed, because two governments when presented with the opportunity, chose greed in the pursuit of immortality over humanity."

"Too noble," The person waved this off as sounding ridiculous. "This isn't a cause, it isn't justice. This is what happens in the absence of it. The Organization is simply what they made when they let those men walk away. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, or so a certain law of motion goes. Well for war crimes given a pass from recompense where do you suppose the equal and opposite reaction lies?"

Gin sat in silence, uncertain if he should ask more questions and uncertain if that person really realized how much information had just been entrusted to him. But the boss wasn't the type to ever say more than intended, which meant that person believed Gin's loyalty could hold the burden of that information.

The boss noticed the silence of his introspection, almost as if waiting for it, and something in that person's tone shifted, or rather shifted back to how that person normally spoke, calculating and callous.

"The Organization finished our objectives on American soil several years ago, but it would seem they are not quite as done with us. There is nothing I still want from them and I don't intend to prolong our exchanges. We need to reduce our number of enemies if we are to continue forward with our objectives in Japan. In short, cutting off all ties remaining with the FBI is a higher priority than maintaining a good relationship with our current generation of scientists."

Cold struck him in a way it hadn't ever before. The cold penetrated farther through him than any ice storm and freezing water had ever managed. It was in the blood running up his neck and making his bones feel as though they may crack under the slightest pressure; it stung his lungs and encaged his chest making every breath and beat of his heart jab icy shards into them.

After a moment, prolonged in this torture the boss continued. "Still there is no point in causing trouble for ourselves where we don't have to. If we can manage to eliminate the threat to us and keep Silver Bullet running smoothly there should be no reason not to do so, but now is definitely the time to use Akemi for the purpose we intended as she is already in play. We certainly can't hold onto her as we were before considering her intentions. If we can't keep her in line then the answer is straightforward." The boss's eyes held an enticing sort of certainty. It drew Gin in. Such a decisive answer was incredibly appealing. "A traitor shouldn't be allowed to claim their goal before being snuffed out; the intent is enough. You would not have hesitated to end the traitor Cachaca before she wrecked her havoc, and you will not hesitate now."

...

Akai Shuichi sat in one of the rolling chairs before a large display of monitors, waiting. Crowds shifted and flowed under the watch of cameras, while several members of his team at the FBI peered through them. Every now and then the cameras would angle of pick up where one of their own agents was positioned among the crowds on the 53rd floor of Mori Tower.

That was where he should have been, waiting for the action to go down where he could be of use when it started. No here, merely watching over their operation.

Akai scrolled through the messages on his phone as he waited for another to arrive.

Dai,

If I'm able to escape the Organization like this, will you go out with me as my real boyfriend?

Akemi

P.S.

Please watch over Shiho for me until I return.

Akai had tried calling Akemi back at that number immediately after receiving that text message, but the number had been disconnected. Not two days later he received another message, this one from Gin at the number they had used to correspond while he was Rye.

Akemi has failed an errand she was contracted to do. The original arrangement calls for her execution in the event of failure, however, this would put our Organization at a net loss. With your involvement, we believe all parties can come to a more mutually beneficial arrangement. Our proposal is this: If you use your FBI resources to cover up her failure, then the Organization will cut all ties to Akemi Miyano. Reply with a public meeting place, and we will negotiate our exchange.

After consulting his boss at the FBI, he responded with:

Mori Art Museum, bring proof of life or no deal.

Gin's response came through quickly:

Agreed. This Saturday, 4:15 P.M.

It was there that the FBI now waited. The security cameras scanned the long white rooms of art and the much brighter floor below where sunlight poured in through massive glass walls that composed the city view. Both teamed with Saturday's crowds.

The meeting was an obvious trap for Akai, which was why James Black held him back from being out in the open on this operation.

At 4:00 p.m. their agents in tower employee uniforms started to have people clear out of the city view and replaced the foot traffic on that floor completely with their own agents in civilian clothes.

"Four-ten and we're stopping admittance to the city view right on schedule," their man at the city view's entrance radioed back to the control room. Akai watched the monitors for a minute or so as they shewed the first of the new coming visitors away.

He glanced down at his phone screen again, waiting for it to chime with Gin's message.

The lights in the monitor room flickered a moment and the screens before him cut to static as the feed dropped out.

"We're blind here, has anything changed there?" Akai asked over the radio. Around him, other members of the team buzzed as they worked to get the feed back up.

The radios hadn't been interrupted, and the answer came through clearly. "All good on this end."

He couldn't do anything but glare at the static as his team worked to fix it. A minute, and then another still without visual of the building.

His phone chimed with the message he'd been waiting for.

Here. Where are you?

Akai had already typed out his reply but hesitated to send it.

"How close are we to getting it back up?" he asked the room.

An agent under the desk with a phone tucked between his shoulder and ear answered. "We found the problem, but it's going to take maybe five to fix it. Longer to be sure it hasn't been tampered with."

Akai tapped his fingers at the edge of the desk in thought. He couldn't risk waiting that long to respond to Gin. Phone in hand, he looked to James Black beside him who nodded, clearly thinking the same thing.

He radioed to the agents in the sky view. "Keep to the plan, but proceed cautiously, we're still working on getting the cameras back up here."

Finally, he sent the reply.

Meet me in the city view on the floor below.

Akai continued to tap on the desk, occasionally bothering the agents working on the surveillance feed to give him updates.

A few minutes later their man at the entrance came through on the radio, "A few groups in black have come through who answered yes when asked if they were here for a meeting. We've counted eight so far."

The hum of children's voices started in the background of the radio and their agent's voice became slightly more distant. "Hello there, unfortunately, the city view is at full capacity at the moment. Unless you're here for a meeting with someone already inside, I'm afraid you're going to have to come back later." the murmur receded again and the agent's voice was back to full volume. "We'll keep you updated if any more pass through."

"Thank you." As he said this the monitors came back on, and Akai could see where the group of visitors with two children in a stroller and a couple adults walked away from the entrance and back to the elevators. "But that won't be necessary. Once again, we have a visual."

Akai looked over the crowds in the bright room full of glass windows, spotting several black figures lurking among their agents. A pair of them appeared to be walking back toward the entrance. It had been a while since he'd messaged Gin that he was there, and it wasn't that difficult to discover that he wasn't actually.

Akai signaled another agent in the control room with him to drop the security doors. Large metal doors, of the sort typically only used in museums and art galleries, fell solidly over the entrance and exits of the entire floor that composed the city view. They were meant to protect the art in the night by keeping people out, but now would prove effective at keeping them in as well.

Akai pulled the announcement speaker to him, which got the most use echoing the closing time throughout the halls of the gallery, but today would serve to communicate with their captive audience.

"Now, where's Gin?"

...

Gin and Vodka waited in a tight alley between two towering aisles of dull-colored shipping containers. It was scheduled to be one of the least busy hours at the shipyard that day, and standing in the silence of a yard that typically clamored with the screech of heavy machines left them with a false sense of isolation. It was the same illusion of solitude as when one walks through a particularly dense forest. There were more eyes and ears around than there appeared. However, the long rows of stacked shipping containers around them would provide privacy enough for their meeting, even if the shipyard wasn't as completely deserted as it may appear.

Akemi had actually pulled off the impossible task set before her, with no experience and next to no resources. He would have been impressed if it weren't so terribly inconvenient.

His first impression of her came to mind now as he waited for her to arrive. He knew she was dangerous even back then; She was a skilled negotiator, and not one he could safely leave with free rein to operate as she pleased.

Even still, he had underestimated her, and she had disrupted his carefully constructed plan. If she had failed it would appear the Organization had no choice but to eliminate her and let her name take the fall; It was the risk they all accepted when they took a job. The fault would lie with Akemi for taking a job she shouldn't have, and that Sherry might one day be able to accept. He knew she would have a much more difficult time with the truth, that being used by an FBI mole had always left her as too much of a risk to keep around. But she hadn't failed as she was meant to, and that upset may have earned her protection back, if only for a time.

"I appreciate your efforts Hirotoshi Masumi." Gin stepped out from around the corner of the shipping container as her soft steps approached. "No-" It wasn't the efforts of her alias or her success on the job he admired, it was her efforts on behalf of her sister. Utterly futile and misguided as they were. "Miyano Akemi rather."

"May I ask you one thing?" Akemi began, not one to relinquish control of a conversation if she could help it. "You gave me these sleeping pills to knock out the hired muscle after the job. The moment he drank it he started coughing up blood and couldn't move. What's the meaning of that?"

"Heh," she was so much like her sister it was amusing. Of course that was her first concern. "Those are our ways."

Heat flared behind the collected mask of her expression, but she quickly forced her anger back in order to stay on task. "I'll be glad to never have to deal with those ways again. Let's just get on with our exchange."

Beside him Vodka shifted at her remarks, crossing his arms and narrowing his gaze. Vodka didn't know Akemi believed this was a meeting to buy her way out of the Organization, only knowing that they intended to take the money from the job as payment for her disobedience in coming to Japan, essentially the cost of proving her loyalty before being allowed to go back to study abroad as she should have been all along.

"Let's see that money then." Gin said.

"It isn't here. I've left it somewhere."

Vodka charged at these words, "What?!" Gin's arm flew out to block his emotional subordinate, who glanced at him with a questioning expression.

"Just wait," He told Vodka sternly.

"Before that, my younger sister! You made a promise! You said you'd let me and my sister out of the organization when this job was over." Again Vodka looked at him in shock, angry with the woman before him. She continued, "If you bring her here I'll tell you where the money is."

" Heh, that's not possible. She's one of the top brains in our organization."

"What?!"

"Unlike you, she is an indispensable member." He informed her. The threat was fair warning at this point. If she didn't understand just what position she was in, she was in danger of thinking she had more leverage in her dealings with them then she really did. That would only end poorly for her.

"From the beginning, you..." her hands balled into fists, "...you intended to kill me?"

She was actually on the mark, but circumstances had changed. It would do no good for them to kill her now unless it was her own fault.

"This job was a punishment for your disloyalty and disobedience. The money will serve as your recompense, and then you will go back to your handler abroad." Gin explained. "If we had simply sent you back abroad after discovering you in Japan all that you would learn was how to be more sneaky next time. Now you will remember your disloyalty comes with consequences, or at the very least you will answer to the blackmail of the murder and bank robbery you committed."

"Everything you set up so I..." Her eyes darted back and forth looking down at the pavement as she tried to come to grips with what he had said. She spoke like the breath had been knocked from her, almost too quietly for him to hear. "Why didn't you just kill me? All this trouble, it doesn't add up." Her eyes were wide and she shook her head slightly back and forth still staring at the pavement like it could explain everything so much better to her.

She looked up, eyes narrowed at him. "If you're willing to shoot me now, then why not kill me from the start instead of going through all of this to keep me in line? There must be a reason. You need me for something." In a matter of seconds, she had snapped back to her expression that reminded him so much of a lawyer, ready to challenge every statement he made.

"You are not in a position to negotiate."

She smirked at his response. Determination quickly backed the challenge forming in her eyes. She knew she had him there. She wasn't as easily dispensable as he had claimed.

Off in the distance, the snap of a car door shutting and the vague echo of shoes slapping on pavement drifted past them. Vodka's hand fell immediately to his holster, his body tensing in preparation. "Did you hear that?"

_The workers must have been getting in for the next shift._ Gin pulled his gun on Akemi, needing to wrap this up. "This is your last chance. Tell me where the money is."

"You're naive. If you kill me, you'll never get what you want from me." She stood firmly, still with a mind to negotiate. The problem was the Organization wasn't the type of system she could debate with. The only options were loyalty or death, and once again she had refused to reaffirm her loyalty.

"You're the naive one. You've as good as given it to us." Gin said, the protection she had earned herself falling away as the reason for how she had brought about her own death finally surfaced. The boss's words echoed in his mind. _If we can't keep her in line, then the answer is straightforward_. "I told you once, didn't I? That last chance was for you." Gin's aim centered on her squarely, and he shot her in the stomach.

She lurched forward in shock.

"The footsteps, they're getting closer," Vodka grabbed his arm in panic. Gin could hear the echo of what was clearly running now as well, dangerously close to them. "Hurry!" Vodka seemed to forget his position a moment as he bounced nervously on his feet and took the black gun from Gin's gloved hand. He had pressed the smoking gun into the hand of the still standing Akemi and dropped it onto the cement before Gin could yell at him for taking it.

In a moment that seemed much longer than it really had been, they fled from the people running toward where they had been, just missing their arrival at the scene of the crime. Time had never seemed to slow down so much after he had shot someone before, he'd seen her gap at him and clutch her stomach in her arms as she staggered forward.

Shouts started just as they were out of sight, and other than the swift tap of Vodka's steps beside him it was all he could hear.


	31. Final Arc (7A) Climax ch

Chapter 31

Massive stainless steel security doors lowered over the exits to the city view. The two figures in black heading back to the entrance froze a moment, their hands falling to belt level in reflex. The few dozen FBI agents masquerading as civilians nearby feigned looks of confusion as the industrial doors fell.

There was a slight murmur of "what's going on?" And, "I wonder if their system malfunctioned," which seemed to ease the posture of the pair heading toward the door, although their hands still hovered at their hips. Other camera angles revealed the six other figures in black scattering to the shadows or gaining what little cover the fairly open floor offered.

When the doors finally lowered completely to the floor the atmosphere of the room changed. By the time Akai's voice came over the intercom the FBI agents had weapons drawn and each supposed Organization member singled out.

"Now, where's Gin?" The words echoed throughout the floor, but were greeted with blank stares. A few glances were exchanged between the men at gunpoint, yet no one dare touch the silence. If it weren't for the static hum of the air conditioning units that carried over the mics and the corresponding shift of clothing Akai might have believed the monitors had frozen.

Akai studied the tense forms of the two men cemented just before the exit, their hands still hovering at waist level. The lines of their bodies were taut like strings wound too tightly on an instrument.

"Oh, that is IT." A voice broke the silence. All eyes jerked to find the speaker; A man who had jumped up onto a bench in front of one of the large walls of glass. The room around him remained eerily tense, like only a single string of the instrument had snapped.

"I'm getting real tired of this ghost story. You blew up one _meaningless_ little boat and it haunts you for the next twelve years! You knew what, I didn't even like the guys that he killed." The man was shouting, but he was somewhat muted to the agents listening in from the control room. His hands were open and up over his head, making it clear he didn't have a weapon. He had taken to pacing back and forth on the small bench as he rambled. "Of the men I actually knew, one was a self-important prick and the other was lazy and so incompetent. Do you think I could even tell you their names? Nope. Hell, I doubt I had even learned them."

The agents with guns trained on the man exchanged looks, truly uncertain of what exactly they were supposed to do at this point, and how long it was wise to let this man continue his erratic rant.

"So, where is Gin? Have any of you actually ever seen him?" He left just enough of a pause after this question, as though waiting for a response. But, like any entertainer playing to the crowd he answered his own question. " No, you haven't, you couldn't have. He can't be here, because he was blown to bits twelve agonizingly long years ago, but they keep bringing that name back up. And every time they do more of my people die!"

"FBI, put the gun on the ground, now!" Another voice cut into the stillness, but this time the remaining strings holding the room taut all snapped at once. The room broke into chaos as soon as FBI left the agent's lips.

He had been shouting at one of the two men stopped by the door who had pulled a gun from his holster while the agents around him had been distracted by the man ranting on the other side of the room. That didn't matter now.

Everyone had a gun in hand now and gunshots were not long to follow.

Immediately after the first shots on the monitors before them, the door of the control room banged open in a startling echo. Japanese police officers flooded into the control room of FBI agents beginning an inevitable and undoubtedly uncomfortable conversation of permissions and jurisdictions with Akai's boss James Black next to him.

Another police officer took over the controls for the building, letting a security door up. Immediately the city view filled with tear gas and the gunfight that had broken out on that floor dissolved into fleeing straight into the waiting barricade of Japanese Police officers.

The monitor showing the entrance where the police lay in wait still showed their own agent standing guard there, and it was only after they brought up the real feed that Akai could see the truth. They had lost the real feed for only the cameras outside the city view, but of course, no one had been paying attention to those.

Akai recognized their defeat. This incident would end up losing them what little permissions they had but had also overstepped here. The crime syndicate they hunted made a bet that the FBI wouldn't put in place all the permissions to act on foreign soil as they should have had in order to nail them. There would end up being something that hadn't gone through in time, or that had been left out by mistake. Something in the paperwork and international relations would end up handing the victory over the illegal organization, of that he was certain.

...

A heavy fog enveloped the streets of Tokyo. The type of fog that shapes emerged slowly from and only lost their ambiguity as they were already upon her. Sherry found it deeply unsettling and had since she was eight, when a figure in black emerged from it to tell her that her parents were dead.

Driving in such conditions was particularly unnerving. Even knowing the car crash had only been the lie they told her so she wouldn't blame the Organization for their deaths. She had seen fog as a harbinger of their passing for too long to simply wave away the anxiety with logic.

Whatever her feelings on driving in such conditions, she had completed collecting data on the apotoxin victims and so had run out of excuses to delay coming back to the labs.

The equipment was laid out cleanly across the counters, waiting for her. Even the materials for the Silver Bullet project were squarely reset as though they had never been packed away, resting beneath the large cylindrical jellyfish tank. Nothing was off from even a millimeter of where it belonged, and yet, looking at them now they seemed deeply peculiar. It was the uneasy feeling of standing someplace she knew well, but had only visited when she was much smaller.

The other scientists turned from their work to watch her a moment as she walked by, but not one of them said a word. Even the more friendly type's chatter had quieted, replaced by dull stares. _Were they waiting for her instructions?_

"How's our progress?" She addressed them, hoping to stir the feeling of the room back towards work. "Have we compared data on the trials? Do we get the same negative result from the standard poison screening as we did with the rat trials?"

"Well, yes on both counts, the apotoxin behaved similarly on the human trials as with the rats, but-" The scientist who'd answered her was flicking his gaze between her and somewhere behind her. "We didn't expect you to be in today."

Sherry's face formed in worried confusion and the man only grew more uncomfortable.

"It's just... your sister..."

Sherry noticed the scientist before her wasn't the only one glancing behind where she stood; the silent attention of the room had shifted from her to just behind her. Her heart startled into a worried pace, and she turned to face the door.

Gin stood in the doorway with the serious face that always accompanied bad news, and her chest sank in anticipation.

"My sister?" She could hear her voice tremble.

"Come with me, I'll explain." Gin instructed.

"Just tell me," she remained firmly rooted. "How is she...?"

Gin shook his head reluctantly. "She's dead; She was pronounced a traitor and eliminated on orders from above."

"No," she gasped. She fell back against the counter and stabilized herself with a grip on its cold edge. "Why?" She barely managed the word.

Gin dropped her gaze, and her stomach twisted at the sign of his guilt. Her knuckles grew white as her grasp of the countertop tightened.

"Why!?" She demanded again, her face scrunched and burning as the reality of the situation crashed over her.

He still wouldn't meet her eye.

"Why did you kill my sister!?" She caught him off guard with this, she had only meant to imply the 'you' of the Organization, but a muscle in his jaw jumped like he'd been the one behind the trigger.

"You tell me why my sister had to die or I swear I will ensure they never complete Silver Bullet!" Her chest shook with heavy breaths.

"You know I can't tell you." He took several cautious steps towards her as he spoke. "It's how the Organization works. She simply had to. Knowing why won't help anything."

She shook her head. No amount of his cold rationality was going to fix this, not now. Not after what they'd done; not after what_ he'd_ done.

"Sherry." His voice was a plea, or as much of a plea as it ever could be.

"Don't call me that," she snapped. Gin halted his approach.

"Everyone out!" She shouted to the still observing scientists.

"You're released for today, go home."

They shuffled out, and despite the look Gin gave her he didn't say anything to stop them. Sherry slipped her hand back behind her during the commotion and pinned the handle of a medical tool under her palm.

"Just tell me why, Gin." The ache in her voice was poorly masked.

"I can't."

She wiped forming tears from her eyes with the back of her free hand. With her other, she tightened a better grip around the dense steel tool behind her.

"Okay then," she said with a pained breath, and then swung the pointed hammer-like tool into the tank beside her. It smashed into the glass, shattering the front of the aquarium which flooded the table of computers beneath it.

Gin was on her in an instant, restraining her before she had a chance to thoroughly destroy the rest of the information on the Silver Bullet project.

"Don't touch me!" She jerked around in his arms and kicked her feet up at the table of computers knocking a few down onto the ground before he managed to pull her away. "Let go of me! I still need to-"

"Stop, stop!" He said spinning her around to face him, a hand on either shoulder. She continued her effort to shrug him off until reluctantly meeting Gin's admonishing gaze. Everything stopped then.

It was something about the fact that they were Gin's eyes cautioning her against continuing this behavior, something tragic and painful that made her want to crumble instead of fight. She couldn't find the strength to struggle anymore and let the fire in her fade. A sudden weight came over her and she sank, losing the will to stand. He released his hold on her and let her lower to the floor.

Akemi was dead; taken from her, just as others she'd loved were, because she was a part of this Organization. And now she was truly and wholly alone.

A pair of heavy footsteps ran into the room, probably in response to all the crashing. She blinked up at the man in vague recognition. It wasn't that she didn't know who it was, but that thought was happening distantly like she was overhearing her own thoughts. Everything close to her became like that, slow and hard to focus on.

Computer equipment sparked and screens blacked out where they had tumbled onto the floor on the other side of the room. The deflated bodies of immortal jellyfish were strewn across the nearby concrete, dead and unblinking. A dark stain stretched beneath them, extending out from where the saltwater had crashed out of the tank.

...

Gin watched where Sherry had collapsed onto the floor cautiously, wary of her acting out again. Her outrage had cooled and now she only sat forlornly at his feet. That wasn't how he had intended that exchange to go, she'd surprised him and faced with the question he wasn't prepared to lie to her.

In truth, it never really mattered what reason they selected for why Akemi was a traitor, that accusation would always remain superficial and fall short of the heart of the matter. Through no fault of her own, Akemi had become a liability to their security when it came to the FBI and they couldn't leave that open forever.

"I didn't expect you to behave this way. To take it this far." His error was painful to admit. _Why could he only see everything clearly now, after the damage was done? How could he have possibly expected her to react any other way?_

Sherry didn't immediately respond, and she almost seemed not to have heard him. When she did speak her tone was sad, if somewhat bitter. "Well guess what, you miscalculated."

Gin moved to grab her arm, but she yanked it away before he could snatch it. In all the times he'd reached for her hand she'd never had the reflexes to pull away first. Or at least he'd assumed she'd never been able to rather than hadn't intentionally.

Surprised he looked to her face. She glared up at him, in warning and anger. He stood still, stopping mid-motion as if realizing he was reaching for an open blade.

He turned away. "Vodka."

"What?" The man was hopelessly confused, standing lamely just inside the door frame.

"The girl."

"Oh," he fumbled out a set of metal cuffs. "Sure."

She let Vodka direct her without a fight, and Gin had him take her to a small room in the building. They would hold her there until they deliberated with the boss about what to do now that she had reacted so poorly to her sister's death. Vodka cuffed her hand to a bar in the room.

"Go wait for that person," He instructed Vodka, who left promptly.

Gin hesitated, considering a thousand different things to say. None of them rose to his lips, despite the blood running hot in his veins, and he only ended up watching her in silence.

She didn't shed a tear and only stared blankly at a corner of the floor. She never looked up at him in that time. He turned to leave eventually. It was then that she spoke, though she still left her gaze on the nonexistent distance. She was focused on the sound of the rain falling in sheets just outside, although he couldn't pin down why he knew that. But he did all the same.

Her voice fell as faintly as the rain. "You could get out you know. Leave before the fall Vermouth sees coming takes you; Bargain the knowledge you have to work as a consultant or witness to the police. You wouldn't be starting over exactly, maybe using your skill set for a better purpose." She wasn't trying to persuade him. Not really. Her tone was entirely sad. Only lamenting over what she thought might be, but knew wouldn't.

Still, a venom rose to his throat. "Vermouth's a liar, and I'll be a corpse before I'm a traitor."

"Yes, I know. An immediate death suits a traitor, as you say. And so it will." He was so shocked by her words that he almost didn't notice the resignation her voice held. He'd once heard a similar resignation in a professor during what he believed would be his last moments.

She wasn't a traitor yet, not if she would just continue her research. If she had already been decided a traitor she would already have been executed. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Sherry-" she cringed away from his voice.

"Aniki," Vodka was back at the door. "That person's waiting."

"Just-" he glanced at the door. "Wait here." He said before leaving to speak with the boss.


	32. Final Arc (7B)

warning: contains the depiction of a suicide attempt

it's canon but still worth a heads up

* * *

Chapter 31 (b)

"Yes, I know. An immediate death suits a traitor, as you say. And so it will."

He stood stunned for a moment.

"Sherry-" He called out her code name, her shackle to _them_. The sound of it almost seemed to burn her, and she flinched away from him. Even as he hurt her, she found herself longing to hear him say her real name as desperately as he had sounded then.

"Aniki, that person's waiting." The Organization was calling him back away from her now, and a sudden feeling rushed to her chest; a need to call out his name, to give a true farewell. But she didn't know it. Gin never used his given name, nor his family name. A man who was not Gin, did not exist in him.

"Just-" he had more to say, but he wouldn't ever get the chance to tell her because he left to answer the Boss's call. "Wait here." He gave that final instruction and stepped out the door.

It closed behind him, leaving her alone before she spoke her last words for him.

"I'm sorry I can't wait for you. Good bye, Gin."

Shiho reached into her coat pocket with the hand not hand cuffed to the room and found what she knew would be there. She hadn't made a whole second batch of the apotoxin as Vodka had instructed. They only needed one and she made exactly one more of the damned things. But then, she never informed them that it was complete. She'd opened a new email countless times, even typed and deleted a couple drafts. In the end deciding that if they really wanted it they could come for it themselves. They would have eventually. She never doubted that, and she kept it on her person for when that time would come.

She pulled the last remaining capsule of the poison from her pocket. She could destroy the last of the poison and the sole mind capable of creating more. In her hands and in that moment she could stop everything from getting worse; she could stop the damage she had done to the world from going any further than today; she could stop any more from dying at her hands; and she could stop the pain it had all caused her. That pain that only tore deeper and deeper into her each day. At last, it all would stop.

She'd resolved to do this already, and now she had tied up the last ends as she told herself she would. She was trapped, if she waited any longer they would force her to continue her work. Affairs in order and the only goodbye she had to say now spoken, she swallowed the pill.

There was pain, and there was heat, and as her body fell ever closer to death, there came panic. Her heart raced, and her body pulsed and only as the realization that she was dying, truly dying, shook through her could she see that this wasn't what she wanted after all. The drive to live could not so easily be drowned out.

The pain began to subside and she feared what the loss of feeling meant. But she remained conscious, she could move her fingers. They were smaller now, her hand had slipped from the metal hand cuff while she was in too much pain to notice.

A drive toward survival had taken over her. Not entirely herself, it was instinct feeling at the walls of her confinement. Instinct and an internal drive that stumbled to her feet. She was shorter now. In fact, all of her was smaller; child-sized. Her hands found a trash shoot, a way out.

Like watching herself from a distance, the small body that was now hers slid out of the shoot, and out of her confinement. Then she was on the street, and she was running. Where? Only away at first.

She felt the rain on arms that didn't really look like hers just the same as rain always felt; felt the downpour weigh down the now too large clothes on her body just the way soaking wet clothes always felt. But, even still it all felt different, almost entirely foreign. Perhaps in part because of the change to her body, and perhaps in part because she shouldn't be feeling anything at all. She should be dead.

The same poison she had taken had taken the lives of all those people, twelve of them. Well, eleven. She thought of the missing detective, and the drug's first victim. She had a crazy theory that he could have shrunken like that outlier rat to a point before sexual maturity, but it hardly seemed possible. Then again, here she was, much smaller and not dead.

But why her, why him, why had everyone else died when they hadn't? It was the question on the edge of her breath as she ran down rain soaked roads. The same question she had been asking about the outlier rat. The jellyfish only reverted back when it felt threatened, so perhaps those proteins in the apotoxin responsible for regression can only trigger with the chemical presence of a stress hormone.

These desperate questions and theories reeled through her head. Her mind clutched feverishly for something to dwell on, to pick apart, to solve, like keeping all the gears turning within her was the only thing keeping her alive.

She settled on a hypothesis to explain why only certain people are killed by the poison. If the subject being administered apotoxin 4869 is in a high state of stress at the time of ingestion, then the subject will regress to a previous stage of development (undetermined). However, if the subject is not in a high state of stress at the time of ingestion, then the subject will die.

The murders of the eleven now dead victims of the poison were likely premeditated enough that the victims did not know they were being poisoned until the process had already been triggered.

She was in front of that missing detective's house now. The one she now believed was very likely still alive; he was the only other living victim of the apotoxin. She collapsed onto the pavement, not caring about even the mixture of water and oil streaming down it. The rush of adrenaline driving her will to survive all came crashing down, and strength left her.

There were the feet of a stranger, and a voice. She looked like a little girl, alone in the rain, fallen flat onto the street. It was probably more than a little alarming to him. He sounded kind, even if she couldn't focus enough on the words to understand him. She passed out entirely, too weak to remain conscious any longer.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry to post such a small piece of the story, but this one, considering what it contains, felt like it really shouldn't be paired with another scene in a chapter, and is part of the reason this chapter is broken up into parts.


	33. Final Arc (8A)

Chapter 32

He was the last to arrive, and he knew the moment he stepped back into those labs that he shouldn't have been. That person waited next to the shattered aquarium turning a shard of glass over and over in a hand like the jagged object was nothing more than a mundane trinket. Meanwhile, Vermouth's voice tainted the air with the seeds of whatever she hoped to gain from this, an effort that quieted as he entered.

Gin approached in the resulting silence.

"Why bother with this?" That person gestured to the remains of the jellyfish tank, laid in fragments across the concrete. "She threatened the project but didn't succeed in damaging our information on it in any real way."

"I'm sure if she'd had enough time-" Vermouth remarked automatically, but the question hadn't been posed to her and the boss silenced her with a look.

The boss enforced a moment of quiet. No one dare break it, its meaning clear. This wasn't a meeting where the boss extended to glean information from listening to them quarl. The one in charge was that person, and the ones who would answer when called upon were Vermouth, Gin, and Vodka.

"Sherry is not an idiot," The boss stated, unmoving. Vodka shifted somewhere in the corner of his vision, almost snagging at his attention. "and if she were anything less than a genius we would never have had need of her and her mind. She knew exactly how much time she would have if she chose to act at that moment and still the target of her attack was the tank of entirely replaceable animals. Why?"

This question was again for Gin, only this time he was left to answer it. "She was distraught. I doubt logic had very much to do with her actions at all. To abandon logic in a fit of emotion is not unlike her, though she has always recovered from the lapse. Her sister was dead and she reacted in grief. The tank was merely nearby."

The boss considered this, turning the sharp fragment of glass deftly over again. The three code-named members in the room couldn't help but watch the shard, nearly holding their breath in anticipation of it cutting into the boss's palm. There was displeasure in that person's musing; likely because the boss didn't like disregarding Sherry's target entirely, whatever her emotional state. This was to be expected.

The boss turned the next question to Vermouth. "Is an entirely illogical action likely?"

"Illogical?" Vermouth hemmed at this. "Perhaps more likely what Gin would find illogical. I'll admit she is reckless, but she always has been. I haven't found very much of a difference in that regardless of the emotion she is feeling. I'm sure Gin can confirm that, he ought to know it better than anyone."

Gin thought of all the times she'd run off, often straight into danger, never giving a thought to it beforehand. He thought of finding her with a long streak of blood running down her face, and with even more dripping from the gash at the base of the fingers on her right hand. Injuries she'd acquired just hours after they met, acquired when she'd jumped recklessly into a van as it sped away. He thought of the long red lines that had marred the skin of her wrists and legs by the time he saw her fully naked. Those ones gained from sliding off the edge of a cliff. He thought of her face when she said 'she expected she would cause trouble for herself by speaking against the Organization as she had' and that 'he could kill her before she'd let them use her to kill more innocent people.'

"Gin," That person addressed him and he realized the boss must have been watching him as Vermouth spoke, watching the truth of her words in the reaction he'd given. "You predicted a reaction similar to this when we met before, saying Akemi's death could compromise the project."

"You hardly need to have been sleeping with her to have seen this coming," Vermouth huffed on the edge of her breath. "Only a matter of time. Isn't that what I said from the beginning." _Damn her, damn her if she wasn't right. Right all along._ He didn't want to hear about how she had predicted this, warned him of these conflicting loyalties.

If it weren't for the boss presiding over their meeting, and the unwavering respect Gin owed to that person, those very well could have been the last words Vermouth ever spoke. As it was Gin was left with only the vain hope the boss would silence Vermouth once more. But she seemed to have managed to say something that peaked that person's interest.

"Still, Gin knows her better than anyone. You said so yourself." That person said. To which Vermouth pursed her lips without response. The boss turned the next question to Gin. "Given that, and your anticipation of her current state, what is she likely to do now? Recover from the lapse? Or hold to her word?"

A test. Vermouth's words had managed to set his own confirmation of loyalty at stake. He steeled his nerves, willing a steadiness and the confidence of persuasion into his voice.

"Sherry is still very much subject to the whims and fancy of her fading childhood. And like a child she lashed out with the worst idea she could grasp in the moment, only trying to get a rise. But she'll have to grow up and she knows it. She can be reasoned with to grow up and out of it. Not while she is still focused on being stubborn, but eventually she'll do what she knows she has to."

"You don't believe she is unlikely to cooperate? Given her actions to this point."

"Perhaps, but I have a fair idea of what she wants. And knowing that, it should be a simple matter of getting her to act as we want. Besides, she is not opposed to the Silver Bullet project itself, and I imagine she will concede to it given time and the proper motivation."

The boss actually grinned briefly when he'd turn words once said to convince him back to his advantage. He tried hard not to be unnerved when it happened so not to lose the certainty he'd forced into his voice.

The only time Gin could even imagine that person smiling was during meetings with his father, when he heard them exchanging opinions like old friends. And even then Gin had only heard those meetings, and had never seen an expression fitting of the tone that person held during them.

"Time then." That person decided, and at once Gin was grateful for the boss's patient nature.

The boss looked to Vodka for the first time since Gin entered the room, perhaps for the first time since Vodka had entered the room. The unease that person had used to impose power still affected him strongly, he looked very much like someone terrified that the boss's attentions had found him. "Move her from where she is being held in the labs to a safe house. It needn't be in Tokyo, so long as she never leaves our eyes."

Vodka left, relief flooding his face that his orders included doing so. Gin wondered in passing what it must be like for Vermouth to be able to read everyone as easily as one could read the thoughts of Vodka on his face.

...

Once Vodka left, the boss had Gin take them through every movement Sherry made that day in the lab. What exactly she had touched; Where exactly she stood; When exactly in her destructive path that she had stopped. The three of them discussed at length every possible reason for the type and timing of her destruction, considering how each action fit from several different angles. Whether she was after the most destruction possible, or simply a flashy option as a warning not intending real damage, or without mind to a target only raw emotion, or whatever was physically closest, or impulsively fell into her lap as an option.

Vermouth complained that it was an exercise in overthinking, but was still unrelenting in her role of devil's advocate.

Gin couldn't afford to play only one side of the argument with the way the boss was watching him. Analysing his every word to see if Gin's judgment was swayed by his desire to keep Sherry from harm.

He still held a tension in his chest. The sort that would upset his stomach if he tried to eat anything right then. Even knowing he'd removed Sherry from the most immediate danger, his pent-up nervousness did not give way to relief. He couldn't let his heart believe the victory because it would pain him too much if it was suddenly taken from him.

There was something about having the boss grant him what he had wanted without some sort of upfront compromise or added edge that left him wary. There was always a calculation to every move that person made, always a way the boss's decisions clicked into some larger plan. The boss might aid someone else's desire if it meant the goals of the Organization would also be furthered by what that someone could give in exchange. It was also possible the thing they desired itself would aid in the boss's plans and that person would allow it. This possibility did not make Gin any less wary.

He wondered briefly if Vermouth ever felt this way - waiting for the price of getting her way. She was perhaps the member who most often got what she wanted, a well-known favorite of the boss. But not even she would be exempt from the other side of compromise. He glanced to her. She hadn't gotten what she wanted this time, that much was clear from her simmering. Another reason to be wary. A Vermouth who hadn't yet gotten what she wanted was a dangerous Vermouth. Then again, a Vermouth who _had_ gotten what she wanted was every bit as dangerous by virtue of the nature of those things Vermouth actually wanted.

The tension in his chest was not helped by the uncomfortable sense of deja vu he was feeling either. The way he had spoken to the boss had been a verbal sparring he did not often engage in with that person. It had taken his mind back, and he was fifteen again standing before a person who not only could but would order his death in a second's decision if only prompted. Standing before that person and demanding to have his way. He hadn't allowed himself a breath of relief so easily after getting his way then either. And it was a large part of the reason he knew not to take one now. There would be an edge to getting what he wanted, there always was one.

At fifteen what he wanted, the _only_ thing he wanted, was to be a member of the Organization like his mentor. The edge was getting exactly that - taking up a role in the same division, doing the same line of work. He had just gotten out of the hospital after getting back from a scouting mission at a ski slope up in the mountains. The same one he had told Sherry about, though that story was a clean version of events. He had thought of it to tell because the assignment itself wasn't a hit, something that would change shortly thereafter, but it had been his first kill for the Organization.

He'd dropped the first of those traitors as they lie in wait to compromise the mission, and had left him dead in the snow. It was the first man he had killed and had been over in an instant. His accomplice, the non-member, he had injured before finding himself struck and falling unconscious into the frozen powder, the warmth of his blood leaking out into it. It is something few speak about when it comes to the reality of a fight. Odds are the stronger side or those with an advantage will cut down the weaker, the unprepared, or the unwilling, and then it will be over. If the fight is even, it might stretch on until the failing of stamina proves one side the weaker and then on to the same result. It was that base nature of a fight that made one way of killing rather like another; the advantage overpowers the disadvantage; killing from the shadows was not so different from winning out in a duel.

The Organization had sent someone to the hospital to question him about his actions in greater detail at his recovery. The main operative on that mission had already reported about the situation with the traitors, and Gin himself had given rudimentary explanations before, which meant he knew what more reporting would really be about. Gin was already out of the bed by the time the man came by, and Gin shadowed him as he came to find the boy he was looking for had already gone. He watched as the man reported to a superior with a call, and left. Normally, Gin would have willingly reported to the man they sent, but the conversation that needed to happen then wasn't with a mid-level operative.

Gin had been in a unique position at fifteen. Normally only executive members ever had any contact with the boss, direct or indirect. To have seen the boss all growing up, to have worked out who that person was, to have spied on countless meetings of Organization business. If his predecessor was to be believed, it was with the boss's and his father's knowledge. That didn't make it any less dangerous. In truth, it probably only made it more so. The boss knew Gin was aware of that identity that was so well guarded, which made his existence risky, but also made the conversation Gin was after possible.

It was time for him to finally go after the sole objective on his mind at that time. He would have that name. The code name to seal his loyalty had to be Gin. And because it had to be that one, he would have to take it right then. A year had nearly passed since his mentor had been killed, and he couldn't be sure the name wouldn't be given to another at any time.

It wasn't a request without footing. How long had he known that the boss intended this position for him? To take a code name; an oath of loyalty, an oath of life and death and all that was of him to the Organization. Perhaps it was something he'd known nearly as long as that person began grooming him for it. It seemed the knowledge had always existed in him, something his sleeping mind had long ago puzzled out. Even back to a time when he hung in his eavesdropper's perch on the inside of a wall, even then he knew. The Organization would have him, lay claim to what it had made, to what in its eyes was always already its own. An old knowledge, and an equally old acceptance, and on that day he would pledge to the truth of it.

When Gin showed up to a meeting the boss was holding in a dimly lit restaurant that person hadn't looked particularly surprised, nor unsurprised, pleased, nor displeased. The boss hadn't looked much of any particular emotion to him, as subtle and calculating as always.

That person said simply "Have you thought to report directly then?" When he had emerged from the shadows. He would have thought it dry amusement were it anyone else speaking.

He nodded.

The boss's dining companions appeared slightly more unsettled at his appearance. Likely because they had not noticed him coming, which was startling because he looked so unlike anyone else around them. He hardly could have blended in, which was true enough. It had always been easy to pick him from a crowd. He'd been taller and lankier than boys his age all growing up, not to mention that ash blonde hair of his. Living in Japan, in a sea of dark hair for him to stand out against: he was like a fire, impossible to miss.

Luckily for him, people didn't look for a fire in the shadows. Gin found early on that he had more in common with a shadow than with the people around him. And so, it was shadows he trusted to hide him rather than crowds of people.

"You killed a member." The boss began, not bothering with anything but what this meeting was really about. He liked that about that person; he may not be able to tell what the boss was thinking but that person didn't fuss around.

"I did, a traitor."

There was a study of him, he could feel it, like a tangible force taking his measure; considering the emotion behind the word traitor that he couldn't hide from coming through.

"This is Gin's little shadow, isn't it? Our politician's son." He didn't know the man who spoke. "He has that feel."

He looked to the boss, deciding not to answer unless that person wanted him to reveal this information. The boss gave a nod.

"Gin was my teacher, yes."

"Huh, then again I don't think I'd ever seen _that_ man defer to someone like that."

"You acted without orders." The boss continued like the interruption hadn't really happened. "You killed without orders."

"Yes. I did not have orders to kill. I had orders to relay a message so the operation would be successfully timed. A task that would have been fruitless had I not intercepted the plot to interfere with the operation's success. I acted in order for those orders I was given to have the effect for which they were intended."

"And now I see the politician in him," The voice of this companion of the boss dripped emotion with every comment he made, or maybe it was only the contrast; he wasn't unkind, only deeply amused by everything.

"Should I have acted otherwise?"

"No, but I wanted to hear your thinking on the matter." The boss conceded. "Reporting to the man I sent would have done for this, why have you really come here?" It had been a risky seeking out that person; speaking face to face; admitting upfront that he knew the identity of the boss. That person was correct in pointing out that he wouldn't have risked that even to explain actions as drastic as those he had taken.

"I've come to ask to become a full member to the Organization. You would not make as honed a weapon as you have if you did not intend to wield it. And I would not ask this if I thought it could wait another year or even another day. But, considering the nature of my training, the knowledge of my upbringing, and my work in this recent operation I believe you would see risk in my remaining untethered to the Organization."

The sheer weight of what he was doing clutched at every fiber of him, and he pushed down his nerves to keep his voice firm even as they shouted at the near stupidity of this act. But his arguments had been true. One simply didn't train someone to kill, see evidence that they are proficient at it, and leave them lying around. Plus the knowledge he'd had since childhood alone was dangerous to keep with someone not firmly within their grasp.

"I would have the code name Gin, and the Organization would have the loyalty of the weapon it has crafted." He concluded.

His eyes were locked with that person, but it did not stop him from hearing the vague sneers from those he forced himself to pay only some awareness.

"Foolish child" was the general consensus, mixed with disbelieving questions like "did he just presume to choose a name for himself?" and "surely he can't think to pledge loyalty with a command of his own?"

"Gin," It was the tone of addressing someone that person used now, and the others quieted. "You can expect your orders to come through Brandy." That person gestured to a boney woman sitting at the table. The only words he had heard her speak to that point were 'foolish child,' and she still looked rather like she didn't intend to take them back. "I trust you will see them through."

...

The door to the labs opened, and Vodka entered. There was a hesitation to his steps, he would walk a bit and then pause just slightly before continuing.

"She's gone." He was a shifting his weight from foot to foot now that he had reached them. He continued to clarify his meaning, though anyone could have read that something had been wrong. "She seems to have slipped her cuffs, and escaped the locked chamber."

In the corner of his eye Gin caught Vermouth's gaze on him, accusing and calculating. He pushed her from his thoughts.

"How?" Gin demanded, suddenly harsh, the pretense of persuasion dropped.

"It's unclear, the room's only door was still locked from the outside-" Vodka's report droned on in a barely audible part of Gin's mind. That wasn't what he meant. How could she leave this way? Here he was working to save her from the consequences of her own foolishness and she'd thrown herself onto a blade, again. Thrown away any effort he could make to save her. "...and I'm sure I tightened that cuff to her wrist."

"It doesn't matter. She still escaped." Vermouth said.

Gin was too singularly angry at Sherry to even grow irate with Vermouth. That reaction was inevitable to such a betrayal. He expected no less from Vermouth.

Warmth left him, and a cold rage clutched at his chest, a culmination of feelings that pained him. It was born of the frustration he felt at her actions, the helplessness he felt at the situation, the harsh slap he felt at the loss of trust that had once been between them. She had run off again, off to the clutches of danger: but this time it was because she hadn't trusted him to save her. He'd betrayed her, and she snapped right back to betray him.

"Vermouth's correct." The boss cut in. "What matters is she made an attempt to escape us. Meeting with her would be pointless. She's made her position clear." That person stood to leave. "It will be an unfortunate setback in the project, but there's nothing we can do. She's a defector and a traitor to our Organization, and orders fall to protocol."

Gin could no longer feel his heartbeat. His chest was suddenly tight, and logic dictated that his heart raced within it. Though he would have equally believed in that moment that it had ceased to beat entirely. Perhaps he should have been dismayed at the loss of her, and perhaps he was, but right then, it only manifested in a deeper anger; a deeper coldness searing at the core of him. More potent than the fear of it even had been.

She had been named a traitor. Of course she had, she had to have known that she would. Known it, and chosen it. He could see the rain through the high windows in the lab; see it but not hear it. The long streaks of the downpour were illuminated in patches of cone-shaped light shining down from the streetlights. Everywhere else the shape of the rain was muddled against the dark gray of the sky. She must have known then, as she listened to the falling rain, that she would turncoat and run. And he had felt her resignation to it, well to something. It was why it had been so hard to leave, even knowing the risk to them both at his delay. He had thought it was a resignation to death. In a way, he guessed it still had been.

...

Gin walked into the apartment where Sherry had been living. It was all cold white walls and merely a skeleton of how the space had been arranged. A simple bed and desk still dug into the dents they made in the dull carpet, but the decor that had once warmed the space had been stripped.

The atmosphere of a crime scene loomed. The apartment teamed with low ranking Organization members tagging, photographing, and logging anything that might prove helpful in the hunt for their rogue member before packing up everything in boxes.

A tech analyst sat at the computer still set up on the desk.

"She search for any locations or check flight prices recently?" Gin asked.

"Mostly just fashion and sports news." The tech analyst stood, hastily offering the chair in front of the computer.

Gin put up a hand to refuse and moved on. He walked to the closet, still packed full of clothing and the scent of her. He pushed through the hangers, failing to keep the memory of her from wafting to his mind. He shoved on through the clothes, checking several items for the brand. She always had cared more about clothes than he could understand, and her tastes ran expensive and exclusive. He would probably have Vodka follow up on online purchases of the designers she preferred.

If there were two constants within the Organization they were vanity and vice, with vanity naturally being the easier of the two to spot.

The Organization had an odd way of inciting a fixation on vanity, and indulging that fixation however it manifested. For Sherry, it was designer clothes. Vermouth had always favored bold lipstick and vintage wine. He was reasonably certain Brandy had a particular affinity for shoes. He recalled once commenting on the impracticality of her every step being heard, which was not well received as the effect was apparently intentional. Gin was not exempt himself, as he obsessed over the state of his classic sports car, among other things.

Gin scrapped another several hangers forward on the rod and came across a coat among the others that gave him pause. He pulled it off the hanger and examined the front collar. His fingertip found the frayed edges of the bullet hole just where he'd put it nearly two years before. It was the only damaged article of clothing he could find in her entire wardrobe.

Gin stepped out onto the balcony and draped the white coat over the railing beside him. It blew gently in the breeze, like drapes in front of an open window. He leaned back against the railing and glanced down to the side at it. He flipped up his collar against the wind, and became aware of something in a pocket over his chest.

He pulled out the cigarette and match that Vermouth had slipped into his pocket just after Sherry broke off their relationship. That woman really did have a way of showing up when it was most irritating. He held them tightly in his fist but didn't quite crush them.

He looked down at Sherry's coat once more. She had escaped the holding chamber and run from the Organization. There was no defending her after she'd been pronounced a traitor; No way to protect her; nothing to reverse the decision he'd all but sentenced her to.

The word traitor meant so many things to him now. _A vengeful Organization member who'd caused his mentor's death, a stubborn professor, an FBI mole, a foolish girl._

Gin lite the cigarette.

Two foolish girls now. _No, that wasn't it._ Surely it wasn't as simple as that. A love- or was it _his_ love, his _ex_ love.

He exhaled smoke.


End file.
